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Jane Stuart’s Chum 


BY 

Grace M n k 




Author of 

Jane Stuart — Twin, The Glenloch Girls Series, etc. 

ILLUSTRATED BY 
ADA C. WILLIAMSON 



THE PENN PUBLISHING 
COMPANY PHILADELPHIA 
1914 


-vl/V 


COPYRIGHT 
1914 BY 
THE PENN 
PUBLISHING 
COMPANY 



JUL 15 1914 

©CIA374808 


Introduction 


“ Jane Stuaet, Twin,” the first book of this 
series, begins just when Jane and her family have 
to learn by experience that money sometimes taikes 
unto itself wings and flies away. In this case the 
loss of it meant that the Stuarts had to leave the 
home where they had always lived, and accept the 
offer of a rent-free house in a little seashore town 
which Jane was sure she should not like. Having 
made up her mind to this, she promptly changed 
it and began, almost at once, to enjoy Belhaven, 
and the girls and boys who came to make her 
acquaintance. 

Learning for the first time that Aunt Caroline, 
in whose house they were living, had lost a son by 
death, and had never been able to find his child, 
Jane constituted herself a detective, and tried her 
best to discover “ little Caroline,” as Aunt Caroline 
fondly called her grandchild. Naturally, this was 
something of an undertaking, and did not end 
quite as she expected. 

There are good times and bad times in the story, 
mistakes and disappointments, surprises and ac- 
cidents. And through it all Jane goes on making 
3 


Introduction 


friends, thinking her own family the nicest in the 
world, and warmly admiring her twin, David. 

In “ Jane Stuart’s Chum ” we meet again the 
characters of the first book, and Jane makes some 
new friends. 

The next book will be the story of a camping 
experience. 


4 


Contents 


I. 

Aunt Jane’s Recipe . 




9 

II. 

Purple Satin 




28 

III. 

At the Good-Times House 




43 

IV. 

The Silver Purse 




6 3 

V. 

“ I’ve Lost the Heirloom ” 




83 

VI. 

The Bayberry-Candle Girl 




103 

VII. 

A House-Warming . 




127 

VIII. 

The Snowshoe Sisters 




H 7 

IX. 

The Bonfire 




166 

X. 

Carol and the Sheeted Seven 




185 

XI. 

Nothing But the Truth 




201 

XII. 

The Enchanted Princess . 




220 

XIII. 

Enter the Concert Girl 




243 

XIV. 

The Princess Meets an Elf 




262 

XV. 

Carol Sees a Light . 




279 

XVI. 

Broken Ice 




297 

XVII. 

Carol Keeps a Promise 




321 

XVIII. 

Who Is Sylvia ? 




344 


5 


Illustrations 


« Why Don’t You Play Doubles ? ” 
“You Must Take the Responsibility” . 
The Old Gentleman Protested 
They Crossed the Narrow Bridge 
w Now, Look At Me ” 

“ j T Was You, Wasn’t It? ” She Said . 
u You Went On My Account ? ” . 


PAGE 

. Frontispiece 
• . 65 

. 87 

. . i 4 i 

• 2 39 

. 285 V 

• 340 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

CHAPTER I 

AUNT JANE’S RECIPE 

Jane was in the midst of an entrancing dream 
when something suddenly landed on the bed and 
woke her at the most exciting moment. It seemed 
ages before she could really be sure that it was 
only Judy’s cat, fiercely humped, and glaring at 
Kenneth’s dog, who wanted to jump, but did not 
dare. 

“ You wretched beasts ! ” Jane scolded, as soon 
as her sleepy gray eyes took in the situation. 
“ What do you mean, Fluffy Stuart, by rushing 
into my room at this hour of the night, and spoil- 
ing a perfectly good dream ? Now I shall never 

know My goodness gracious ! It isn’t night ! 

It’s morning — it’s ” she was wide awake now, 

and staring anxiously at the little clock on her 
desk. “ Horrors ! It’s quarter past seven, and I 
can hear Susan Trot setting the table.” 

Even in the midst of a wild scramble to get 
dressed Jane was conscious that this October 
9 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

Saturday morning was a wonderful combination 
of warm sunshine and exhilarating breeze, made 
perfect by a sky of dazzling blue. 

“ Oh,” she murmured, sniffing rapturously at 
the sweet air which had poured into her room all 
night. “ Saturday, and weather like this ! It 
makes me feel that I ought to do something special 
to celebrate. What would you do, Ragsy ? ” 

Rags, turning disappointed eyes from Fluff, who 
had curled herself into a fat pincushion with in- 
sulting indifference, gave a short, sharp bark that 
was perfectly understandable. 

“ Oh, you would, would you ? ” laughed Jane, 
beginning on her long fair hair with quick fingers. 
“ You’d chase soft, furry things up tall trees if you 
could, wouldn’t you, and scare the life out of 
Ken’s chickens? And after you’d done all the 
mischief possible you’d look like an innocent 
lamb. ‘ I know your tricks and your manners.’ ” 
Jane was fond of quoting the “ Dolls’ Dress- 
maker,” and it set her to thinking of the book 
which mother was reading to her and her twin 
brother David. Then the beauty of the day 
asserted itself once more, and, the feeling came that 
something a little unusual ought to be done to 
celebrate the glorious weather, her own light-heart- 
edness and the general health and happiness of the 
entire family of Stuart. 


io 


Aunt Jane’s Recipe 

“ I don't mean anything very big," she assured 
herself, as she turned down the bed and put the 
pillows over by the window, “ because this after- 
noon there'll be tennis with the girls at Polly’s. 
But just something a little different from what I 
do every Saturday morning. I'll get suggestions 
from the family. 

“ What would you do if you were I ? " she 
asked David, as they made the customary dash for 
first right to the stairs on their way down to break- 
fast. 

“ Oh, I don't know." David's answer usually 
came slowly. “ Try doing my hair two or three 
new ways, I guess, or change around all the furni- 
ture in my room." 

“ Foolish ! I mean something sensible and 
new." 

“ Well, it would be new if 'twas sensible, wouldn't 
it?" and David ducked to escape swift punish- 
ment, and fled into the dining-room with his sister 
in close pursuit. 

“ What's this ? An invasion by wild Indians ? " 
demanded mother, trying to look severe, but really 
only smiling at her tall, fourteen-year-old twins. 

“ Excuse us, mumsey. What Spinksy said was 
so — so sudden, and really quite bright for him," 
said Jane, dropping into her chair and shaking a 
threatening fist at her brother. “ I really shall 
ii 


jane Stuart’s Clium 

have to punish him later. It doesn’t do to let 
these things go with children.” 

Kenneth, who up to that moment had been 
deeply absorbed in consuming his cereal, gurgled 
joyously. He could almost always be depended 
upon to laugh at Jane’s small jokes. 

“ Well, if Davy’s a child you are,” observed Judy, 
who was of a more literal turn of mind than her 
younger brother. “ Really, I think Ken’s the only 
child in this house. I’m twelve, you know.” 

“ Twelve and two days,” reminded David 
solemnly. “ Don’t forget that part, Judy. If you 
get mixed in your reckoning now, you’ll never be 
able to say that you’re twelve years and three hun- 
dred and fifty-five days, or anything of that kind.” 

“ Anyway, I shall be ten next month.” Kenneth 
offered this information more to reassure himself 
after the affront of being called a child than for 
anything else. 

Susan Trot, waiting on table, was quick to feel a 
little lack of buoyancy in his tone. “ I ain’t callin’ 
anybody that can run a hen business exactly a 
child,” she murmured in a voice intended only for 
Kenneth’s ear, and then at the quick brightening 
of his face went on her way to the kitchen. 

“ Mother, can you think of anything new for 
me to do this morning?” Jane was still search- 
ing for an answer to her question. 

12 


Aunt Jane’s Recipe 

“ Why don’t you ? ” began mother. 

“ Help me with my egg business.” 

“ Paint those paper dolls for me you promised 
so long ago.” 

Kenneth and Judy interrupted almost at the 
same instant and then looked apologetically at 
their mother. 

11 ’Scuse me, little mother. You see when a 
fellow’s so busy as I am he kind of forgets his 
politeness.” 

“ Oh, Ken, not that excuse,” his mother pro- 
tested quickly. “ You’re never going to be too 
busy to be polite to your mother or any one else. 
I accept your apology, of course. And — and 
Judy’s?” She ended with a questioning glance 
at her younger daughter, who, though always 
hating to acknowledge herself in the wrong, mur- 
mured meekly that she was just going to apologize. 

“ What were you thinking of, mother ? ” queried 
Jane, skilfully bringing the conversation back to 
her own affairs. 

“ I was wondering why you don’t try that recipe 
for cake that you found in your Aunt Jane’s little 
diary.” 

Jane looked sober for an instant. At first thought 
the idea of doing anything in the kitchen on such 
an out-of-doors day didn’t appeal to her. Then 
her face brightened. “ If it is nice it could be my 

13 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

cooking specialty, couldn’t it, mumsey ? Almost 
all the Belhaven girls I know have a cooking or a 
sewing specialty, and I’ve been meaning to have 
one. I should be so prideful if the church supper 
ladies would only say to me as they do to Serena 
Holt, ‘ Now, Serena, won’t you make some of your 
delicious marshmallow cakes for next Wednesday 
evening ? ’ ” 

“ Well, they wouldn’t say 1 Serena ’ to you, and 
yours won’t be marshmallow cakes,” remarked 
Judy crushingly. 

“ Julia Stuart, you haven’t the least scrap of 
imagination, not the least. Anyway, mother, 
that’s the very thing. You always hit the nail 
on the head.” Jane folded her napkin, and went 
around the table to give her mother a hug. Which 
movement on her part was the signal for an affec- 
tionate onslaught of young Stuarts, from which 
their pretty mother emerged rosy and disheveled. 

“ I wish you’d stand up, mother, so’s there’d be 
more of you,” grumbled Kenneth, not quite satisfied 
with his share. “ I don’t want to crawl under the 
table and hug your slippers when I’m so chockful 
of breakfast, and those great strong twins don’t 
leave me any room.” 

Mother laughed and hugged the curly brown 
head tenderly. Then she took Judy into her 
embrace, and somehow, the next moment, there 

14 


Aunt Jane’s Recipe 

was again a bouquet of Stuarts, as David had once 
poetically called it. 

“ Well, now that does look as ef you set an aw- 
ful store by each other,” said a cracked voice so 
unexpectedly near that every one turned toward 
the door leading into the kitchen to see Mr. Chope 
with his smiling eyes shut almost tight, and a 
letter in his hand. “ Sally, she suspicioned there 
was a letter for Mis’ Stuart in the post-office,” he 
continued, “ an’ she insisted on haulin’ me over 
to git it. You’d oughter seen her lay back her 
ears and laugh when I come out of the office with 
it. Dju ever see a hoss laugh, son? ” As he fin- 
ished speaking, Mr. Chope’s arm went around the 
shoulders of Kenneth, who was always his loyal 
comrade. 

“ Thank you, Mr. Chope. That was a good 
thought of Sally’s. She’s by far the most remark- 
able horse I’m acquainted with,” said Mrs. Stuart, 
taking the letter. Then Mr. Chope went back 
through the kitchen, and they could hear him 
chuckle in response to one of Susan Trot’s sharp 
remarks. 

“ It’s from Aunt Caroline,” murmured Mrs. 
Stuart, opening the letter and glancing through it 
rapidly. “ She’s planning another long journey, 
but can’t decide because Donald’s so unhappy 
every time it’s mentioned.” 

i5 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Poor old Don,” David said sympathetically. 
“ I bet he's dead tired of chasing around all the 
time. In the very last letter I had from him he 
said he wished he could go to school with Jane 
and me.” 

“ She and Uncle Stephen and Donald will be 
here before long, but she doesn't say just when,” 
continued mother, putting the letter into its en- 
velope again. “ Now scatter, children, and do 
your morning work. Jane, if you need any help 
from me let me know. No doubt Susan will be 
glad to advise you. Only by all means, dear, de- 
pend on yourself all you can, and clear away any 
disorder you make.” 

“ Ma mere, I shall obey your slightest com- 
mand,” responded Jane with a grand air. She had 
been studying French for the last four weeks, and 
loved to throw in a word or two when she could. 

“ David, what are your plans ? ” pursued mother, 
still keeping a tight hold on Kenneth who had 
reached the wriggling stage. 

“ Why, the fellows are going to try to finish Un- 
cle Stephen’s little house this morning,” David 
answered with one eye on his brother. 

Kenneth's face fell. He was firmly convinced 
that the log cabin which Uncle Stephen had en- 
couraged the boys to build on his camping-ground 
could not be finished without him. “ Aw, say, 
16 


Aunt Jane’s Recipe 

that’s mean,” he protested warmly. “ Mother, do 
I have to stay at home and clean my hen-house ? 
I want to be with the boys.” 

“ Those big boys probably don’t want you,” ob- 
served Judy, whose consoling remarks were apt to 
be of doubtful value. 

“ Well, I want to go all the same,” began Ken- 
neth, and then stopped to listen to what his mother 
was saying. 

“ You know best, son, whether you can put off 
that hen-house work until another Saturday.” 
Mrs. Stuart was gazing searchingly into the brown 
eyes so like her own. “ What does Mr. Chope say 
about it ? ” 

Kenneth had to laugh, though he realized that 
this question meant his own defeat. “ Mr. Chope 
says,” he began with that irrepressible chuckle 
which always amused his family, “ he says that if 
I don’t clean the house to-day the hens are going 
to strike. He’s been hearing them talk about it 
all the week.” 

“ Then don’t neglect it,” counseled mother with 
a laugh. “ I dare say the boys won’t finish the 
house to-day even though they think they will. 
David, I have some errands for you to do before 
you go with the boys. And now we’re really off, 
I think.” 

For the next hour, Jane, still under the in- 

17 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

fluence of blue sky and October sunshine, whistled 
gaily all through her making of beds, and putting 
rooms in order, with her mind a perfect medley of 
cheerful ideas. 

Then before going down-stairs she sat down at 
her desk and copied the recipe. She could not 
risk taking Aunt Jane’s dear little old diary into 
the kitchen where she might soil it in the course 
of her cooking. 

“ This recipe is delicious made in the form of cup 
cakes,” the prim delicate writing said. “ My father 
ate three of them and praised me very much.” 

“ Well, if I make ’em even ordinarily good it 
won’t take much urging to get Davy and Ken to 
eat three apiece any old time,” observed Jane 
thoughtfully, as she compared her own dashing 
handwriting with that of the earlier Jane. 

“ Mine’s more stylish nowadays, and anyway I 
can usually read it,” she comforted herself. “ I 
s’pose, though, I ought to try to make it plainer. 
Uncle Stephen thinks he should really enjoy my 
letters if he could tell what they’re about.” 

When Jane’s fair head was poked around the 
kitchen door Susan Trot looked up from her work 
with her usual pleased, eager expression. She 
was sitting at a small table polishing silver with 
an energy that seemed to say, “ Let no guilty 
spoon escape.” 

18 


Aunt Jane’s Recipe 

“ Coast clear, Susan, and is there a good baking 
fire?” asked Jane, putting on as wise an air as 
she could, and laughing in the midst of it. 

“ The kitchen is yours,” Susan’s comprehensive 
sweep of the hand made it seem like a palace, 
“and the fire’s splendid. I was just crazy to get 
out all the things for you, but your ma told me 
no.” 

“ That’s right. I want to do it all myself.” 
Jane wore a heroically helpless expression which 
would have softened any heart. “ I don’t seem to 
know just where to begin, though.” 

“ Read over your directions out loud,” advised 
Miss Trot, suggesting by her capable, energetic 
manner the grown-up title Mr. Chope had given 
her, and the Stuart family had borrowed. “ That 
might give you a start.” 

“ ‘ Yolks of five eggs,’ ” read Jane obediently. 
“Mercy! It’s lucky we have hens. 4 Two cups 
of sugar.’ What an awful lot to spoil if it doesn’t 
come out right. ‘ Juice and rind of one orange.’ 
Susan, have we any oranges in the house ? We 
have ? Oh, I’m so relieved. ‘ One-half cup of 
cold water.’ Luckily that’s cheap. 1 Two cups 
of flour. Two level teaspoonfuls of baking-powder. 
Whites of three eggs. Mix in the order named.’ ” 

Jane pondered for a moment as she finished 
reading. “ I believe first I’ll get the orange ready, 

19 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

and the sugar and flour measured, and then I can 
go ahead with the eggs and the mixing.” 

“ Good for you,” approved Susan. “ That’s 
jest what I should do if I was goin’ to make that 
cake. Only, before I begun to mix, I should see 
that my pans were warmed a little on the back of 
the stove, and properly buttered.” 

“ Oh, of course. You’ve saved my life, Susan, 
though I hope I should have thought of it before 
I got really into the middle of things. Now I’m 
off, as mother says.” 

For a while Jane worked with such absorption 
that she quite forgot to talk, which on her part 
was a symptom of great stress of mind. Then 
with an orange grated and squeezed, gem-pans 
buttered, baking-powder stirred into sifted flour, 
and that and the sugar measured into separate 
bowls, she drew a long breath of relief. 

“ It’s great fun. I like it,” she announced, as 
she began to break the yolks of the eggs into a 
large, yellow mixing-bowl. 

“ Cookin’ ain’t so bad if you only take it right,” 
Miss Trot remarked philosophically. She was 
holding up a tablespoon as she talked, and regard- 
ing its brilliancy with a merciless eye for flaws. 
“ Now I think it’s real pretty to see some things 
go together.” 

“ Why, so do I,” cried Jane, who was just stir- 
20 


Aunt Jane’s Recipe 

ring the sugar into the beaten yolks, and admiring 
the combination of white and soft yellow. 

“ I think toast is handsome when it’s browned 
jest right, and puddings with a little patch of 
jelly and whipped cream on top.” 

“ And your cunning little biscuits, and pretty 
green salads, and that nice fish hash you make 
with beets and carrots in it,” pursued Jane, quite 
charmed with the subject. “ I believe I’ll learn 
how to cook a lot of things, Susan. Will you 
teach me?” 

“ Sure I will.” Miss Trot’s eyes were shining 
at Jane’s praise of her cooking. “ I’d be glad to.” 

“ You know a great deal about cooking and 
housework, don’t you, and you’re not quite three 
years older than I am,” said Jane as she carefully 
measured the half-cup of water and stirred it in. 

To her surprise Susan’s face flushed violently, 
and the keen dark eyes grew misty. “ I’d be 
willin’ to work like — like a tiger if I could only 
learn some of the things you know, though,” she 
said after a moment in a choked voice. 

“ Why, what do you mean ? ” Jane’s busy spoon 
paused for an instant and then resumed its work 
mechanically. 

“ Oh, readin’ and ’rithmetic and spellin’, and 
most of all how to talk right.” Miss Trot’s words 
hurried out as though the desire for these accom- 
21 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

plishments had been long pent up in her mind. 
“ There’s somethin’ I want to learn to be, but I 
can’t even begin till I know a lot more’n I do 
now.” 

“ What is it, Susan ? ” Jane was always frankly 
interested in the affairs and desires of other folks. 

But Susan, apparently already repenting her 
avowal, had grown suddenly shy, and could not be 
prevailed upon to disclose her secret hopes. To all 
Jane’s coaxing she shook her head in mute refusal, 
and put her whole attention on finishing and 
putting away the shining silver. 

“ There!” murmured Jane at last, breathing a 
sigh of satisfaction as she softly closed the oven 
door. “ Now, while I’m waiting for it to bake, I’ll 
clear away the muss I’ve made.” 

“ I’d like awful well to do that for you.” Susan 
seized a broom and started toward the kitchen door 
as though fearful that she might take a hand in 
the clearing-up process if she lingered. 

“ I couldn’t possibly let you,” answered Jane, 
getting out the dish-pan with a capable air which 
she felt sure must be impressive. “ Mother said I 
was to do it myself, and, besides, you won’t tell 
me your secret.” 

“ I’d — I’d like to, but — oh, well, I can’t now, 
anyway,” Susan stammered. “ I’ve got to sweep.” 
She was at the door by this time and then in the 
22 


Aunt Jane’s Recipe 

hall. Jane, fearing to make her cake fall if she 
walked heavily, tiptoed across the room and called 
to her. 

“ Oh, Susan, if you’d only drift in about twenty 
minutes or half an hour from now,” she begged. 
“ I want you to help me decide when it’s done.” 

“ All right. I’ll be there,” and Miss Trot’s 
head peered over the baluster to nod an emphatic 
acceptance of the appointment. 

Back in the kitchen again Jane took one swift 
peep at her cakes when ten minutes were up. 
Then she began to wash the cooking-dishes. Sud- 
denly she stopped short. “ How stupid of me ! ” 
she said aloud. “ Why didn’t I tell Susan that 
I’d teach her all I know, which isn’t much, but 
it’s something. She was so pleased, too, when I 
asked her to help me about cooking. I’ll make 
up for it the minute she comes down.” 

But in spite of her virtuous resolve, when Susan 
came just in time to confirm the new cook’s 
opinion, and was off again quickly to finish her 
sweeping, everything faded from Jane’s mind but 
her delight in the delicious golden-brown cakes 
which she and the fire had created. 

“ My, but they smell good ! ” she exclaimed, 
gloating over them, and proceeding to pry one out 
delicately with a fork. She wished David were 
there to be proud of her. For some reason tri- 

23 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

umphs never seemed complete without her other 
half to share them. “ Two dozen beauties and this 
cunning loaf,” she murmured with a rapturous 
gleam in her eye, and then Mr. Chope’s voice, 
speaking just outside the window, roused her from 
the satisfied contemplation of her achievement. 

“ Now, Lady Jane, you don’t mean ter tell me 
that you made them beauteous cakes,” he was 
saying with a flattering air of overwhelming sur- 
prise when Jane looked up. “ Why, I couldn’t of 
even dreamed anythin’ that looked so good as 
those.” 

“ Try one,” said Jane proudly, passing the plate 
to him as she spoke. All the Stuart children 
regarded Mr. Chope, who had worked about the 
place since their mother was a little girl, as a 
personal friend to be consulted and deferred to. 

The old man nibbled, then tasted judicially, as 
though something portentous hung upon his 
decision. 

“ Soo-perb,” he said at last, and then again as 
though the word pleased his ear, “ soo-perb. 
Light’s a feather, and jest enough flavorin’ and 
sweet. I bet that food of the gods Kenneth reads 
to me about, that ambrosy, ain’t any better’n 
these. You must have made ’em hundreds of 
times to have ’em so perfect.” 

At Jane’s delighted admission that this was the 
24 


Aunt Jane’s Recipe 

very first attempt, Mr. Chope was so astounded 
that he swallowed a morsel of cake unexpectedly, 
and went off into a fit of coughing that threatened 
to finish him. 

“ Here, drink some of this,” said Jane, flying 
over to the window with a mug of water. And 
then, when Mr. Chope was, somewhat better, she 
added, “ Have you been over to the little house 
this morning ? ” 

He nodded an assent, not trusting himself to 
speak, and his face wrinkled into one of the ex- 
pansive smiles so characteristic of him. “ Them 
boys are all working like beavers,” he wheezed, 
“ becuz David’s told ’em Mr. Stephen Eliot’s goin’ 
to light in on ’em soon, and they’re afraid he’ll 
be disapp’inted. 

“ The other fellers brought lunches so’s they 
needn’t waste any time goin’ home, but Davy, he 
didn’t know they was goin’ to do that, and he’s 
feelin’ kinder troubled,” Mr. Chope went on 
suggestively. “ They’re all promisin’ to give him 
things ef he’ll only stay, but I can see he feels ’s if 
he ought to do his share.” 

“ Of course he does. I’m going to ask mother ” 
— and Jane was half-way to the kitchen door be- 
fore a sudden thought made her pause and turn 
back to the window. “ How many boys are there, 
Mr. Chope?” she demanded eagerly. 

25 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Leinme see ; there's David and Rob Randall,” 
the old man was checking them off on his brown 
fingers, “ and Ned Holt and Jack Dexter, and that 
important-feelin’ Oliver boy. He's fussin' round 
there as if he owned the whole shootin’ match, but 
the other chaps don’t pay no more 'tention to him 
than as if he was one o’ them little buzzin' flies. 
Not much like his sister, is he ? ” 

“ I should say not. Molly is a darling. Well, 
that's five, isn’t it?” Jane had started for the 
door again. 

“ If your mother is willin’ that you should take 
over a lunch to David and some of them prize 
cakes to the other boys,” began Mr. Chope, neatly 
guessing Jane’s little plan, “jest tell her that I’ll 
go along, too, and if there’s no objection I’ll carry 
some milk.” 

Mother's consent could almost have been taken 
for granted, and she hurried down-stairs herself to 
help Jane put up a lunch. It became in the end 
a family affair, for Judy wandered in and freely 
volunteered advice ; Kenneth appeared in overalls, 
with the dew of honest labor on his brow, and 
looked so wistfully at the lunch that Jane presented 
him with one of her cakes ; while Miss Trot, ap- 
parently in two or three places at once, was always 
on hand to help, or to frown at any levity on the 
part of Mr. Chope. ' 


26 


Aunt Jane’s Recipe 

“ There, now we’re off adventuring, aren’t we, 
Mr. Chope ? ” Jane said joyously as they started 
out of the back door. 

“ Yes, sir, we are. And if I meet one of them 
double-header smoke and fire dragons I’m goin’ to 
bring him back to Kenneth for a pet.” 

“ Humph ! ” sniffed Susan Trot, flying for the 
broom to sweep out some almost invisible dirt left 
by Mr. Chope’s heavy boots. “ Humph ! Drag- 
ons ! ” 




2 7 


CHAPTER II 


PURPLE SATIN 

As they went along the invigorating breeze sug- 
gested to Mr. Chope his favorite topic of ocean 
adventure, and he plunged absorbedly into a long 
and thrilling tale. Once fairly under way he 
needed no response, and Jane, who had heard this 
particular story before, decided that it was rather 
like a game to try to look intelligent and interested, 
and to think her own thoughts at the same time. 

“ Not that my own thoughts wouldn’t make me 
look intelligent and interested,” she was saying to 
herself, as they came within sight of the house 
that belonged to the ladies who used to make bay- 
berry candles. Jane always distinguished it in 
this way because Mr. Chope had told them about 
it the first time the Stuart family had gone to 
Uncle Stephen’s camping-place. Now it was 
rented, and the bayberry ladies had gone into the 
city for the winter. 

Jane gazed at the old house as they approached 
with a certain feeling of curiosity. She had never 
known the people who lived in it, but for her it 
had held a suggestion of light and good cheer. 

28 


Purple Satin 

Now, to her fancy, the atmosphere had changed, 
and there was something gloomy, almost forbid- 
ding about it. Two weeks before this she had seen 
a girl, enveloped in shawls, sitting in a steamer- 
chair on the piazza. She had guessed that she 
might be about her own age. For an instant the 
dark eyes looking out of the thin white face had 
rested on the rosy, athletic girl going by. Then 
the girl on the piazza had turned away her head 
with an air of infinite weariness. 

“ Now there I was,” Mr. Chope’s insistent voice 
suddenly penetrated the meditations of his com- 
panion, “ between them two things. Now what 
would you have done, Lady Jane? ” 

Jane looked at him helplessly. “ I — well, I 

suppose I ” she floundered distractedly, hating 

to let him know that she had not been listening. 

“ I bet you’d have done just what I did,” said 
Mr. Chope firmly, and then he was off again. 

Warned by this experience Jane resolved to 
listen, and did so for at least a minute. Then, just 
as they were passing the house of which she had 
been thinking, her attention was distracted by the 
sight of the girl she had seen before. This time 
she was evidently coming out of the door, but had 
stopped irresolutely on the threshold. 

Jane, happily conscious still of the glory of sun 
and breeze, was moved by an irresistible impulse 
29 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

of friendliness. She nodded and smiled and half 
started to wave her hand, but the girl, gazing at 
her with sorrowful, almost distrustful eyes, turned 
quickly and fled into the house without a sign of 
response. 

“ Well, she evidently doesn’t like my looks,” 
thought Jane with a little shrug. “ I shall know 
enough not to try that again.” She was glad that 
^ Mr. Chope had not noticed the rebuff she had re- 
ceived, but was still talking steadily, with dreamy 
eyes fixed on the far distance. Jane wondered 
sometimes how so peaceful a man could have lived 
through so many thrilling adventures. 

They were going across a rolling meadow now, 
and in a few moments had reached the brook with 
its log bridge. Then, almost at once, they were in 
the deep woods, as Jane liked to call them, and 
within sight of the little house which the boys had 
been building for Uncle Stephen. 

David was the first to meet them and guessed 
at once the purpose for which they had come. 
“ Well, of all lucky things ! It’s dandy of you 
and Mr. Chope to bring over my lunch. The fel- 
lows will be mighty glad of that milk. And 
what’s this, Mrs. Janes ? ” He was peering inquisi- 
tively into the small basket his sister carried with 
such care. 

“ Sli ! ” implored Jane, seized with sudden shy- 
30 


Purple Satin 

ness. “ I made 'em, but don’t tell any one. 
They’re orange sponge cakes.” 

“ Glory ! They’re peaches all the samee. Don’t 
make me promise not to tell, Janesy. I can’t keep 
it.” And David took matters into his own hands, 
and broke the news at once to Rob Randall who 
had just come up. 

“ Say, that was awfully good of you to make 
those,” said Rob. “ Hi, fellows, come on over here. 
Jane has made some scrumptious cakes just for us.” 

“ I did not,” Jane explained coolly. “ I made 
’em for my family, and to see if I could, and I was 
kind enough to bring some over here. That’s all.” 

“ That’s quite enough. It just shows how nice 
you think we all are,” teased Rob, who liked to 
have Jane get on her dignity, and make unneces- 
sary explanations. 

“ Not at all.” Jane’s manner was crushing. “ It 
shows how nice I think the cakes are.” 

“ Stop scrapping, children, and give me one.” 
Ned Holt came hurrying up and put out a begging 
hand. “ Why do you and Rob always quarrel, 
Jane? Oh, my gracious, you may cook for me any 
old time. Those — are — dandies.” 

“ Let’s eat a toast to Jane,” proposed Jack Dex- 
ter, coming up with Stanley Oliver. 

“ Not before your lunch ! Cake is for dessert,” 
Jane protested. 


3i 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Oh, pooh ! We’d do more than that for you,” 
remarked Stanley with the patronizing manner 
that always irritated Jane. 

“ Here’s to the lady cookeress,” said Ned, who 
couldn’t wait any longer to prove what his eyes 
were telling him. “ When I get home I’m going 
to make my sister blush for shame because she 
isn’t so smart as you are.” 

“ Serena ! ” Jane opened her gray eyes very 
wide. “ Why, Serena knows more about cooking 
in one minute than I do in a day. But I’m going 
to learn. See if I don’t.” Her gaze wandered 
from the boys clustered around her to the little 
house, which on the outside, at least, seemed at- 
tractively complete. “ I s’pose you couldn’t be so 
kind and polite and — and regularly angelic as to 
let me look inside, could you ? ” she coaxed. 

“ Not yet,” David hastened to say with brotherly 
firmness. He was afraid the other boys would 
weaken now that Jane had been so good about 
bringing over the cake. 

“ We’re going to have a house-warming, you 
know,” Rob added quickly, “ and you’re to be one 
of the lady patronesses.” 

“ Which means, I suppose, that I shall be al- 
lowed to make the lemonade and wash the glasses,” 
Jane responded with a laugh. “Well, all right 
for you, and I think you’re all horrid when I’ve 
32 


Purple Satin 

come way over here with these cakes. I’m not 
going to take the least interest in your old party. 
When will it be, and what kind of a one is it ? ” 

“ What indifference ! ” commented Jack. 
“ We’re so hurt. The date isn’t set yet, but it will 
be some Saturday this month.” 

“ Then you’ll have a chance to see what real 
cooking is,” Ned remarked solemnly. “Once in 
a while we show the girls what is ahead of them 
if they’ll only work.” 

“ Oh — oh,” Jane groaned, putting both hands 
to her head. “ I never heard such conceit. I’m 
going to eat a lunch beforehand so that I may be 
sure of something.” 

“ Now will you be good, Neddy,” said Rob, fan- 
ning his friend with a large oak leaf. “ Stand 
back, boys. Give him air.” 

“ The worst thing about the Snowshoe Club 
parties now,” observed Stanley Oliver, “ is that we 
have to invite too many girls.” 

“ Why don’t you leave some of us out, then ? 
I’m sure I’ll stay at home if I’m not wanted.” 
There was something about Stanley’s manner in 
regard to girls, an air of toleration, as though he 
put up with them because he must, that made 
Jane’s wrath rise at once. 

“ Oh, David would be mad if we left you out,” 
began Stanley serenely, but before he could con- 
33 


jane Stuart’s Chum 

tinue, Rob, with a quick twist of the foot and 
a hand in his collar, had laid him flat on the 
ground, and was forcibly stuffing dry leaves down 
his neck by way of discipline. 

“ You’ve made that brilliant remark before 
about ‘ too many girls.’ Now cut it out, Stan, do 
you hear ? ” he was saying decidedly. Then, as 
he rose from the ground, leaving the prostrate 
Stanley sulkily silent, “ You see, Jane,” he went 
on, “ the Snowshoe Club almost went to pieces 
last year because three members moved out of town, 
and some of the other boys went away to school, 
and we haven’t yet found the boys we want to fill 
all the vacancies.” 

“ But now we have David, and we’re going to 
make your cousin Don a member,” added Jack. 

“ And if the girls don’t mind having so few 
boys we couldn’t have too many girls,” Ned 
finished with unexpected gallantry. 

There was an inarticulate growl of protest from 
Stanley, still prone among the leaves, which Jane 
decided to ignore. She felt that she had been 
properly propitiated, and that it was no longer 
necessary to preserve the air of hurt dignity which 
she had attempted to assume. 

“I’m glad you’re going to have Don in the 
club,” she said happily, “ though goodness knows 
when he’ll have any chance to be here if Aunt 
34 


Purple Satin 

Caroline keeps him traveling all the time. I sup- 
pose your club is just a boys’ club, isn’t it?” 

“ You bet it is,” stoutly affirmed the unquench- 
able Stanley, half rising only to be suppressed 
again by Ned, who rolled him over and over in 
the rustling leaves. Even in the midst of his 
anguish the slogan, “ the Snowshoe Club for boys,” 
was faintly audible, and, in spite of herself, Jane 
had to laugh. 

“ Do let him up, Ned,” she begged. “ He’ll eat 
so many dry leaves that he can’t appreciate my 
cakes. Besides, I’m awfully fond of his sister.” 
Which last was a sly way of getting even, after all, 
for Stanley hated to be endured on account of his 
sister, and Jane knew it. 

“ I must go home,” Jane went on suddenly. 
“ Where’s Mr. Chope?” 

“ Gone to the Trent farm to ask about something 
he thought Mrs. Trent would do for us,” explained 
Ned. “ He’ll be right back.” 

“ I can’t wait and I’ll run along. Are you all 
coming up to Polly’s this afternoon ? ” 

“ If we get through here in time,” promised 
Jack. “ We’ll be up for a little while, anyway.” 

“ I’m going to see you across the brook, Mrs. 
Janes,” said David, who always felt great respon- 
sibility in regard to his family. “ Then we’ll 
have lunch, boys.” 


35 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

Rob went also, and both boys lingered to watch 
the girlish figure until a sharp turn took it out of 
their sight, and into a neighborhood where houses 
began. 

Feeling somewhat in haste, Jane skimmed along 
the homeward way more quickly than she had 
come, but this time, also, when she approached 
the bayberry-candle house, she saw something 
which riveted her attention and made her slacken 
her pace. Coming from this direction, one passed 
first a side gate, and here some one whom Jane 
had not seen before was moving about in a pecul- 
iar manner. 

As she drew nearer she could tell that it was 
a short, plump, white-haired woman dressed in 
glistening purple, and that she seemed to be 
making extraordinary efforts to turn her head so 
that she could see her own back. A moment later 
it was quite plain that her dress was held fast in 
the gate. 

“ Oh, let me help you,” cried Jane, hastening to 
her, but it took three vigorous pushes from her 
strong young shoulder to make an impression on 
the gate, and all the time the old lady was utter- 
ing little distressful sounds which wrung the heart 
of her rescuer. 

“ Dear me ! Are you dreadfully hurt ? ” she 
asked when the gate at last swung open. 

3b 


Purple Satin 

“ Not the teentiest bit,” declared the old lady, 
turning a pair of very bright blue eyes in Jane’s 
direction. “ I most wish ’twas me ’stead of my 
dress.” She was gathering the shining purple 
folds into her arms as she spoke, scrutinizing them 
closely, and feeling of every inch as though she 
expected her fingers to discover what her eyes 
could not see. 

“ I don’t b’lieve it’s any more hurt than I am,” 
she declared at last, with a face so full of triumph 
that Jane smiled a friendly response, and actually 
felt as though something joyful had happened to 
her. “ Now wouldn’t you have s’posed that mean 
'old gate would have taken one bite out of it, any- 
way ? It’s just a little rubbed and dusty, but 
that’ll come off. I declare things aren’t hardly 
ever as bad as they seem, are they ? ” 

She spread out the train of the gown with a 
little fling and gazed at it joyously. “ You see I’d 
always planned that some time I should have a 
purple satin gown,” she went on confidentially, 
“ and I was jest set on havin’ it hooked in the 
back. Of course I know it ain’t the very latest 
thing to have ’em that way, but it makes any one 
look so kind of — well, so kind of young. And 
anyway who’s goin’ to be able to tell that I didn’t 
begin on this when hooks in the back was in the 
height of style ? ” 


37 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

She looked hopefully at Jane, who, not knowing 
exactly what to say, smiled instead and gazed 
admiringly at the gown. “ It’s a perfectly beauti- 
ful color,” she ventured, wondering meanwhile 
why it should be worn in the yard at this hour. 

“Ain’t it handsome?” The old lady fingered 
the lustrous folds again with tender touch. “ Of 
course I know I hadn’t ought to have it on out 
here at this time o’ day,” she said, hitting Jane’s 
thought with an accuracy that made the latter feel 
almost guilty, “but somehow this morning there 
was something — something in the air, I guess — 
that jest made me feel I must celebrate some 
way.” 

“ Really ! ” Jane’s eyes opened wide in astonish- 
ment. “ That was just the way I felt when I got up 
this morning.” 

“ Well, I took out this dress and got the girl to 
hook me up — makes you feel real kind of grand 
lady to have some one do that for you, don’t it? — 
and I was admirin’ myself” — she broke into a 
soft, throaty gurgle which made Jane laugh in 
sympathy — “ when I saw our kitten makin’ for the 
gate as fast as she could go. Naturally I forgot 
myself and run out after her. She makes me an 
awful lot of trouble, that kitten does, but I can’t 
help likin’ the little tyke.” 

“ Did you catch her? ” inquired Jane, who felt 
38 


Purple Satin 

herself bubbling over with mirth. It was not that 
she wanted to laugh at the sprightly old lady, she 
assured herself earnestly. But there was some- 
thing so joyously expectant about the blue eyes 
and the humorous smile, something so confidingly 
youthful in her manner that one longed to laugh 
with her. 

“ Oh, I shooed her into the yard. There she is 
now playin’ with her tail in the sunshine. Kittens 
get comfort out of awful silly things, don’t they? 
I don’t know as I blame ’em, though.” To Jane’s 
surprise she ended with a little sigh, and the blue 
eyes lost some of their brightness. “It’s done me 
a sight of good to talk to you and — and look at 
you,” she went on wistfully. “ I b’lieve I’d ’most 
forgotten that girls could laugh and look so joyful. 
I’d kinder got a little acquainted with you by 
seeing you out of the winder. I saw you go by this 
mornin’ with that benevolent-lookin’ old gentle- 
man.” 

Jane stared uncomprehendingly for an instant. 
“ Oh, you mean Mr. Chope,” she answered hastily. 
“ Yes, he’s fine. All the Belhaven girls and boys 
like Mr. Chope.” 

“ I should know that by his face.” The old 
lady’s gaze wandered past Jane and along the 
road. “ There he comes now,” she said suddenly. 
“I must go in. He might think it strange for me 
39 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

to be out here in the mornin’ prinked up like this. 
Good-bye, dear. I do hope I shall manage to see 
you again. If only Mary would ” 

Jane strained her ears to catch the words that 
followed, but to no purpose. “ If only Mary would 
what? ” she was asking herself curiously when Mr. 
Chope overtook her, and they walked on together. 

In spite of the quickness with which the old 
lady slipped out of sight Mr. Chope had managed 
to get a reasonably satisfying glimpse of her, and 
he was frankly inquisitive. 

“ Now, do tell me who she is, and who the other 
is that Fve caught a peek at once in a while,' ” he 
began with the air of one who feels that an im- 
portant question is about to be settled. 

“ I haven’t the faintest idea,” responded Jane 
disappointingly. “ But she likes your looks, Mr. 
Chope. She says you’re a benevolent-looking 
gentleman.” 

“ Sho, you don’t mean it.” A dull red crept 
slowly into Mr. Chope’s brown face. “ Said that, 
did she? Well — now. She’s a mighty fine-lookin’ 
woman, herself, with that white hair and them red 
cheeks. It beats all, though, how I haven’t been 
able to find out a single word about the people in 
that house,” he ended with some irritation in his 
tone. 

Jane, absorbed in her own thoughts, forgot to 
40 


Purple Satin 

answer, and they walked in unaccustomed silence 
until they arrived at the house. 

“ Well, good-bye/' said Jane gaily, as her com- 
panion turned in the direction of the barn. 
“Thanks for helping me take over the lunch." 

Mr. Chope came out of his reverie and lifted his 
old straw hat with impressive courtliness. “ You’re 
as welcome as the day is long. Don’t you ever 
hesitate to ask me anythin' you want." He started 
off slowly, but before Jane had reached the piazza, 
he had turned and was coming toward her again. 

“ Say, Lady Jane," he began in a voice expressly 
calculated not to reach Susan Trot’s ears should 
she be within hearing, “ now what should you call 
the color of that frock that skited off all of a 
sudden ? " 

“ Purple," answered Jane promptly. “ Royal 
purple, I guess. It was satin ; nice, soft, satiny 
satin, and made in almost the latest style." 

“ Whew ! " whistled Mr. Chope. “ You don't 
say so. Pupple satin ! Right outdoor in the 
mornin', too, and not a sign of a party goin' on. 
I bet Juno and Cleopatry didn't do no better’n 
that. What's that little woman thinkin’ of with 
all this talk goin' on 'bout the cost of high livin’?" 

“ Why, she said she'd always wanted a purple 
satin dress." Jane felt an instant desire to defend 
her new acquaintance from the imputation of ex- 

41 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

travagance. “ You know, Mr. Chope, perhaps 
that’s been her one biggest wish. Perhaps she’s 
always been poor and never had a chance to have 
the things she wanted. Of course I don’t know 
anything about her, but if you had talked with 
her you’d have sympathized about that dress, I’m 
sure.” 

“ Likely I should,” agreed Mr. Chope. “ I’m a 
great one for wantin’ to have people git their best 
wishes.” He walked away again, shaking his head 
over life and its problems, and Jane, lingering on 
the piazza, heard him murmur hoarsely, “ Pupple 
satin ! Gosh all hemlock ! ” 


42 


CHAPTER III 


AT THE GOOD-TIMES HOUSE 

“ My vantage/’ called Jane triumphantly, giving 
the ball a spiteful cut which sent it sliding as soon 
as it touched the ground. “ Goodness ! If I could 
only serve that way every time ! ” 

“ Well, even if you can’t you’re too much for 
me. That’s your set.” Polly Reed was flushed 
and breathless after the long game, and, as usual, 
ready to accord all credit to her opponent. “ I 
hate a deuce game, anyway,” she went on as they 
walked away from the court. “ After it’s been 
‘ vantage in ’ and 1 vantage out ’ a few thousand 
times I’m absolutely rattled.” 

Jane laughed gleefully. “ Poor old Pollykins ! 
You certainly made me work hard, and, if I do 
say it, not every one can do that. Who’s going to 
use the court next?” she ended, as she and Polly 
approached the bench where a group of girls were 
sitting. 

“ I am,” responded Molly Oliver, straightening 
her slim figure energetically. “ Come on, Serena, 
or Peggy, or — oh, Esther Strong, why don’t you 
play? You need the exercise dreadfully.” 

43 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

The thin, rather stooping girl to whom she was 
talking looked up in alarm. “ Mollyolly, darling, 
don’t make me. I’m such a goose when I get up 
in front of that net. The ball looks as big as a 
cannon-ball.” 

“ All the more reason why you should get used 
to it,” responded Molly briskly, intending to go 
on with her customary lecture on the value of 
exercise, but nipped in the bud by a small auburn- 
haired girl with twinkling eyes. 

“ Sh, Molly. How do you know but that you 
are stepping right into the middle of some great 
poem ? ” she said impressively. “ As sure as my 
name is Marian Chester, Essie was just wishing 
she had a pencil and was off by her lonesome 
where she could write down her beautiful thoughts. 
Now, ’fess up, Miss Strong.” 

“ I was thinking that the ocean couldn’t look 
lovelier than it does this afternoon,” unwillingly 
admitted Esther, who never knew how to get out 
of answering any question her mischievous friend 
was pleased to ask her. 

Jane, who had been putting on a sweater, 
dropped down on the bench beside her. “ Don’t 
let that child tease you, Essie. She’s green with 
envy because she can’t make a rhyme herself. Why 
don’t you play doubles, girls ? You and the Triad, 
Molly. I’m sure Serena and Peggy need exercise.” 

44 


At the Good-Times House 


“ You may leave me out,” protested Polly Reed, 
who was the third member of the Triad. “ I’m 
still puffing. Oh, dear, it’s horrid to be getting so 
fat.” 

The girls laughed unfeelingly at the despair in 
Polly’s voice, and she covered both ears when they 
began, one after another, to suggest methods of 
checking her increasing plumpness. 

11 1 don’t care ! I don’t care ! ” she cried wildly. 
“ I like candy and nuts and sweet things, and I 
will not walk ten miles a day, Marian Chester, nor 
roll on the floor till I’m dizzy. Oh me, oh my, 
shall I ever learn not to say anything about being 
fat before you girls ? ” 

“ Probably not,” said Molly, looking at her with 
the severest expression her soft brown eyes could 
assume. “ You moan over it all the time, and 
that’s all the good it does. Come on, Serena. You 
and Marian play against Peggy and me. We really 
do need practice in doubles, as Jane says.” 

Serena Holt, tall, pink-cheeked and brown- 
haired, got up in haste and the small blonde girl 
beside her followed protestingly. Peggy Curtis was 
rather given to protesting, but it didn’t make 
much difference in the end. Just now she was 
urging the fact that she hadn’t intended to play, 
and that her hair which she had done a new way 
would all come down. Marian, whose hair curled 
45 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

naturally, laughed at her as they strolled toward 
the court. 

“ Now,” said Jane when the game was fairly in 
progress, “ now I can have all the entertainment I 
want. I can watch the girls or I can look at the 
ocean. Let’s move the rug, Polly, so that we can 
sit on it and put our backs against the bench. 
Essie, your knee looks awfully good to me for a 
pillow.” 

Esther sighed contentedly when Jane’s fair head 
rested against her. She had a boundless admira- 
tion for this friend which she was too shy to ex- 
press, but which was fed on just such small atten- 
tions as this. 

On pleasant Saturday afternoons these particular 
girls almost always met at Polly Reed’s tennis 
court. During the winter Dr. Reed lived in the 
center of the town, but in early spring he moved 
his family to a spacious old house which had stood 
for years on a hill overlooking the ocean. It was 
a good-times house where all of Polly’s friends 
were made welcome, and all loved to come. In- 
deed it was a current belief in the town that the 
Belhaven girls and boys thought the “ Reedery,” 
as they called it among themselves, belonged to 
them. 

This was an afternoon of enchantment, so Jane 
told herself, as she sat with half-closed eyes look- 
46 


At the Good-Times House 


mg out over the ocean. With all her heart she 
loved the color and light and sparkle that met her 
gaze. The sky was so blue ; the fleecy clouds 
threw such wonderful shadows on the water, and 
in the distance small white-winged boats slid 
through the waves. 

“ It’s great, Esther, isn’t it ? ” Jane’s voice was 
hardly more than a sleepy murmur, but her gray 
eyes were wide awake. “ It makes you want to 
write poetry, and I’m just crazy to have my paints 
here, and try to put some of the lovely color on 
paper, though, of course, I know I couldn’t.” 

“ Where do I come in?” Polly demanded dole- 
fully. “ I haven’t a single talent.” 

“Yes, you have. You’ve got a talent for turn- 
ing out perfectly dandy fudge, and another great 
big talent for standing by your friends like a little 
trump, and — and making them have a perfectly 
gorgeous time.” Jane ended her burst of enthusi- 
asm by reaching over to pat the afflicted Polly, 
who, with all her gay self-assertiveness, could 
never be made to think enough of herself. 

“ You’re getting to be as much of a jollier as 
Marian,” said Polly, but she couldn’t help looking 
pleased. 

“ I scorn the base insinuation.” Jane’s manner 
was full of tragic intensity. “ Isn’t that a quota- 
tion from some one, Essie? It ought to be if it 
4 7 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

isn’t. You know, Polly, when any one comes into 
a strange town as I did last spring she just natu- 
rally sees all her new friends with very sharp eyes. 
So you needn’t think you can hide your talents 
from me.” 

“ Hear ! Hear ! ” agreed Esther warmly. 
“ Good for you, Jane.” 

“ Where’s Carol Heath this afternoon, Lady 
Jane?” asked Polly with an abrupt change of 
subject. “ She said she was surely coming up 
here.” 

“ That doesn’t prove it. When she’s particu- 
larly sure of doing anything you can usually de- 
pend upon her to change her mind. She and her 
mother went into Boston yesterday to see Mr. 
Heath off, and I dare say we shan’t see her till 
just before the last bell Monday morning.” 

“ My goodness ! ” cried Polly, who had been 
watching the game. “ Did you see that last serve 
of Serena’s? She’s getting so she plays almost as 
well as Molly.” 

“ Speaking of Carol,” pursued Esther, who, the 
girls said, was always one topic behind the others, 
“ I wish she wouldn’t tell such things. Of 
course they’re funny, and we know how to take 
them — usually, but those other girls, the Rita 
Mayo set, I mean, say awfully unkind things 
about her.” 


48 


At the Good-Times House 


“ Well, Carol knows it,” Jane answered resign- 
edly. “ And it makes her all the worse when she 
is with them. By the way, Rita doesn't bother 
our crowd much these days, does she ? ” 

“ You know why, don’t you? ” asked Polly, and 
when Jane shook her head added, “ It's because 
she couldn’t get any of us to propose her for a 
4 J. N. P.’ She happened to hear that one of the 
girls is going to leave town this fall, so she made 
love to all of us for a while. She’d feel still worse 
if she knew that two of the older girls are going 
to change into ‘ S. N. P.’s,’ and that means three 
vacancies.” 

Jane sat upright and looked from Polly to 
Esther with flattering interest. “ Three vacan- 
cies,” she murmured, and her eyes and smile said 
even more than her words. 

“ That takes care of you and Carol, of course, 
you coaxing thing,” said Esther, answering all 
that Jane had left unspoken. “ We’re going to 
wait a while for the other until we find a girl we 
really want.” 

“ How perfectly lovely,” breathed Jane, putting 
her head against Esther’s knee again with a satis- 
fied sigh. “ How did you tell me you got the 
name?” 

“ My sister and eight other girls started the 
club, and they got perfectly desperate about a 
49 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

name,” Esther explained. “ At last they all went 
into my father’s study, where he was writing 
something very important, and they stood up 
before him and told him he’d got to give them a 
name for their club. My sister was quaking be- 
cause they’d interrupted him, but he only laughed 
and said, ‘ You look exactly like nine-pins.’ And 
so they took that name.” 

“ And now there’s a senior club and a junior,” 
added Jane. “ I’m so glad I can join. Mother 
thinks you do such nice things.” 

“ Well, look out that Essie doesn’t blackball 
you,” cautioned Polly, laughing at the horrified 
face Esther turned upon her at the mere sugges- 
tion. “ You’d better be nice to her.” 

“ I will, and I’ll warn Carol,” Jane remarked 
solemnly, and then they all laughed at their own 
absurdity. 

“ Well, anyway, I wish Carol wouldn’t make 
up such ridiculous stories and tell them as if they 
were true,” said Esther, going back to the previous 
subject of conversation with a persistency that sur- 
prised the others. “ I’m really awfully fond of 
her, but I never know whether to dare to take her 
seriously.” 

“ When in doubt, don’t,” counseled Jane with 
exceeding wisdom. “Carol just says those things 

to make us all stare. She doesn’t expect us ” 

50 


At the Good-Times House 

she stopped suddenly to listen, and then to wave 
rapturously to the occupants of an approaching 
automobile. “ There she is now, I do believe. At 
least, I don’t see Carol, but it’s the Heath car with 
half a dozen boys hanging on it. Come on ; let’s 
meet them.” 

Jane was on her feet and running fleetly before 
the others started, but they followed as they 
always did when she invited. Molly Oliver, leav- 
ing the tennis court, raced with her for the last 
few yards amid the cheers of the latest arrivals. 

The boys stepped off the running-board as the 
car came to a stop, and David was just in time to 
act as a buffer for his twin. 

“ Crikey, Jane, it was lucky your other half was 
there,” said Rob, looking at her apprehensively. 
“ It makes me shudder to think what would have 
happened to Carol if you’d hit the car the way 
you did David.” 

Jane laughed. “ Spinksy’s used to stopping me 
in my wild flights in more ways than one, aren’t 
you, Davy ? ” 

David nodded an assent. “ You’re getting to be 
an awfully hard hitter, though, and if it had been 
a little delicate fellow like Rob or Ned Holt ” 

“ All lost on her,” said Rob with a shrug of his 
broad shoulders. “ You’ve got to talk faster, Dave, 
if you want to keep up with that sister of yours.” 

5i 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

By this time Jane was at the automobile welcom- 
ing Carol. “ I’m too glad for words to think you’ve 
come. And what are you going to do to me ? I’ve 
been saying that you probably wouldn’t be here 
just because you promised you would.” 

“ Why, Jane Stuart,” Carol made an effort to 
look grieved, but her dark eyes were dancing, “ I’m 
sure I’ve been the most dependable person in the 
world for — for as much as a week. I believe I 
shall punish you by not letting you have anything 
from that basket Ned and Jack are carrying.” 

“ Oh, is it a party ? I’ll be good ! I’ll be good ! ” 
and Jane turned in quick pursuit only to run 
almost into the arms of Molly Oliver. 

“ You didn’t see Stanley anywhere, did you ? ” 
Molly asked with a shade of anxiety in her manner 
at once apparent to Jane. “ David says he went 
off somewhere after lunch.” 

“ Why, yes, we saw him. The boys shouted to 
him to come along, but he wouldn’t. He was with 
that Dallas Street crowd, Molly. I should 
think you’d hate to have Stan go with those boys. 
They’re not a bit nice.” 

Molly frowned perplexedly, then walked off 
without a word, her youthful face suddenly older 
and very sober. 

Jane got hold of Carol’s arm and gave it a soft 
pinch as they followed. “ Don’t you know that’s 
52 


At the Good-Times House 


just what she does hate?” she said under her 
breath. Then realizing that Molly's rapid stride 
had taken her quite out of hearing, she added, “ It 
must be awfully hard trying to be sister and mother 
both to a brother so near your own age. And 
Molly's father never seems to have much time for 
his children.” 

“ Mollyolly's worth twenty of Stan, but you 
couldn't make him think so,” asserted Carol 
severely. “ It's funny how she spoils him when 
she manages all of us girls so well.” 

“ Sh ! We're catching up with her. Now, Carol,” 
Jane changed the subject of conversation abruptly, 
“ if I make you a public apology for doubting you, 
won't you let me come to your party ? ” 

They had reached the group of girls and boys by 
this time, and Carol's answer gave great joy to them 
all. “ Down on your knees, fair maid,” she com- 
manded, “ and say you're sorry.” 

Jane’s knees hit the ground with a force that 
made her groan. “ Ouch ! I am sorry. Now 
may I get up ? ” 

“ And after this you'll always consider me an 
ab-so-lutely reliable person,” pursued Carol in- 
exorably. “ No, wait ; you needn't answer. That 
would be too much of a strain on anybody. Be- 
sides, I can't keep you xmt of the party, because 
Daddy said you were to open the basket.” 

53 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Hurrah ! Mr. Heath's my friend forever ! " 
exploded Jane, rising only to go down on her 
knees again, this time beside the hamper, and with 
no mock-penitence, only eager curiosity in her 
gaze. 

It was an enticing, greenish-gold basket adorned 
with bows of soft dull green, and with a gilded rod 
stuck through the loops of straw which held the 
cover. Jane untied the ribbons, and drew out the 
stick lingeringly. In spite of her own curiosity, 
she enjoyed prolonging the suspense of the others. 

There was a many-toned exclamation, begun by 
the girls before Jane had time to lift the soft papers, 
and prolonged into a deep groan of satisfaction by 
the boys. And so royal a basket of fruit was 
worthy of their rapture. There were golden 
oranges and ruddy apples ; pears and peaches, 
blushing rosily and giving forth a captivating fra- 
grance ; plums, yellow and red, and a great bunch 
of purple grapes. 

“ Did you ever see the like of that?" gasped 
Serena. “ I think your father is a perfect dear to 
send back such a lovely basket to us." 

“ Daddy almost always does something nice just 
as he is starting on a journey. I tell him he is 
trying to make sure we shall miss him. But it 
doesn't need anything extra to make me do that," 
ended Carol with a little sigh. 

54 


At the Good-Times House 


“ Fathers are perfectly fine, aren’t they ? ” said 
Polly, who was her father’s special comrade. 

Jane, helping Carol pass the fruit, heard Polly’s 
remark and felt a little twinge of envy. She could 
only just remember her father. But then mother 
was so much better than any other mother she had 
ever known. All of a sudden she found herself 
urging the most delicious-looking pear in the bas- 
ket on Molly Oliver who had lost her mother when 
she was a very little girl. 

“ Don’t force Molly to take that pear, Jane,” 
David said, laughing a little at his twin’s compel- 
ling manner. “ Perhaps she’d rather have some- 
thing else.” 

“ I should,” Molly announced unblushingly. 
“ I’d rather have one of those gorgiferous plums. 
Oh, I wish Stan was here. He just loves plums.” 
The worried look stole into her eyes as she spoke 
of her brother, but she smiled in spite of it and 
turned to David with a question. 

“ How’s the work going? Isn’t that house 
nearly finished ? ” 

“ Almost. Just a few last things to do. We’ve 
worked all the morning, so we really deserve this 
treat now,” answered David, consuming a shining 
apple with great contentment. 

“ I bet that if we don’t finish that house imme- 
diately, if not sooner, Mr. Eliot will be here and 
55 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

think we’re no good,” remarked Rob. “ Now if 
the other boys had only worked as hard as I 
have.” 

“ Don’t pound him here, boys,” pleaded Jane ; 
“ of course I don’t blame you, but it makes me 
nervous to see anything so violent near that basket 
of fruit.” 

Rob looked at her reproachfully. “ Is that the 
way you go back on one of the first friends you 
made in this town ? Well, well, you never can 
tell about girls.” 

“ Isn’t there something we can do to help you, 
boys?” asked Jane, wholly ignoring Rob’s melan- 
choly protest. 

“ You might make us some curtains if you like,” 
proposed Ned. 

“ And you can give the house,” Jack Dexter 
added, “ that distinctive — or instinctive — which do 
I mean ? ” 

“ Destructive,” suggested quiet David to Rob’s 
great joy. 

“ That instinctive feminine touch which we boys 
can’t get if we try,” finished Jack, frowning at the 
levity of his companions. “ We’ll buy the curtain 
materials if you’ll tell us what to get.” 

“ Why don’t you let us provide it?” began 
Serena, but her brother cut her short. 

“ No, Mr. Eliot gave this house to the boys, and 
5b 


At the Good-Times House 

we intend to pay for everything that costs money. 
Of course if you're pining to put some of your 
superfluous time into making curtains and things 
we'd like it." 

“ But you're not to expect, young ladies," said 
Rob, taking the conversation into his own hands, 
and imitating Ned's rather high and mighty man- 
ner, “ that this trifling service will entitle you to a 
share in the house. Far from it. We boys have 
built this house and we propose to own it all alone. 
You will be allowed to visit it once in a while. It 
may be possible that you will be permitted to dust 
the sacred precincts occasionally, or to make lem- 
onade and cake when we have company, but " 

“ Oh, cut it out, Rob," growled Ned. “ We 
don't ask the girls to let us join their club, do 
we? " 

“ When Uncle Stephen first proposed it, he said 
Carol and I might help." Jane was mischievously 
ready to complicate the situation. 

“ Yes, but you never did," David retorted, going 
over to the enemy much to the disgust of his twin. 
“ And afterward Uncle Stephen made an arrange- 
ment just with the boys." 

“ Children, children, while you're squabbling 
the rest of us are simply devouring Carol's fruit," 
warned Polly. “ Let's finish our party and then 
have some tennis." 


57 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ We wouldn’t belong to your old club if we 
could,” Peggy said loftily, “ and, perhaps, we 
shan’t be ready to come when you want us.” 

“ Don’t mention so horrible an idea.” Rob 
looked at her with such well-simulated distress 
that even the precise Peggy, whose sense of humor 
was decidedly lacking, had to smile. 

“ Catch me missing a good time,” laughed Jane. 
“ Why can’t Carol and I get your curtain ma- 
terial next Saturday, boys? We’re going to the 
city.” 

This proposition fitting in very well with the 
boys’ ideas, and being strengthened by a promise 
on the part of the girls to hurry in the making of 
the curtains, the plan was agreed upon and peace 
reigned. 

“ I’ll give this basket to the boys for their house, 
and here’s an apple and a pear and some plums 
left,” said Carol, as the group broke up for tennis 
and ball. “ Let’s take ’em to some one.” 

“ The girl in the bay berry-can die house,” Jane 
suggested, with no expectation of being taken 
seriously. 

“ Not if I know it. I shall take them to Judy 
and Ken.” Carol’s face expressed distinct irrita- 
tion as she turned to Serena. “ Jane’s got that 
girl on the brain,” she said crossly. “ I believe 
she thinks there’s something mysterious going on 
58 


At the Good-Times House 


in that house. She saw a sick-looking girl on the 
piazza, and she heard, what was it, Jane, the clank- 
ing of chains and dismal shrieks ? ” 

“ You ridiculous thing, I never said a word 
about chains or shrieks or mysteries,” Jane avowed 
promptly. “ Why do you tell such — such yarns, 
Carol ? 1 It leads to wuss,’ as Mr. Chope says. 

Anyway ‘ that girl ’ refused to notice me when I 
waved a friendly hand, so I’m out of it.” 

“ I’m glad of it.” Carol and Jane were walking 
toward the tennis court as the former made this 
fervent remark. “ I’m not going to have you 
getting acquainted with girls when you don’t know 
who they are nor anything about them. Besides, 
I’m all the time afraid you’ll be chummy with 
some one you’ll like better than you do me. Oh, 
I know I’m a jealous little cat, Jane, but I’m really 
awfully devoted to you.” 

There was such a whimsical appeal in the other 
girl’s dark eyes that Jane laughed, and yielded to the 
arm suddenly flung around her instead of stiffen- 
ing as she sometimes did. But in the bottom of 
her mind there was the little irritation which 
always came when Carol asserted her rights of 
possession. Jane felt that she should hate an 
intimacy which would deprive her of liking other 
girls. 

“ Oh, well, I can tell you don’t care for me so 
59 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

much as I do for you / 7 said Carol, looking hurt 
and taking away her arm. 

Jane wondered absurdly whether her inmost 
thoughts had oozed out through her shoulders, 
and communicated themselves to Carol by way of 
the embracing arm. Then as her friend turned 
away she gave an impatient shrug. 

“ She’ll get over it in a few minutes, and I’m 
not going to bother my head about it,” she said to 
herself, just as Rob coming up with her racquet 
hurried her into a game of tennis which had been 
waiting for her. 

The jolly afternoons at the “ Reedery ” were 
always to be remembered. Tennis, basket-ball, 
croquet were begun and interwoven and ended 
with the gay chatter of girls and boys, keenly re- 
sponsive to each other, and to all the pleasant 
influences surrounding them. Then, when the 
active fun was over, there was the walk home 
together, with last lovely glimpses of the ocean as 
the path wandered in curves down the hill. The 
late afternoon was vibrant with laughter and the 
sound of youthful voices. 

To-day Jane felt the joyous atmosphere so 
strongly that she hardly noticed the bayberry- 
candle house which they came upon just where 
the hill-path and the one from the brook joined. 
After she had passed, something made her look 
60 


At the Good-Times House 


back in time to see a man come out of the house, 
hurry after David, who happened to be one of the 
last in the gay procession, and talk with him for 
an instant. Jane was too far ahead to be able to 
see the stranger distinctly, though she strained her 
eyes. 

“ What did that man want of you, Spinksy ? ” 
she demanded, when she and Carol, Rob and David 
were left by the others at the corner of their street. 

“ He asked where Dr. Reed lives.'’ 

“ Goodness ! I wonder if that girl is ill. She 
looks it. He didn’t say, did he, who she is, 


“ Nor where they met, nor what he said, and she 
said and they both said,” Carol interrupted with 
her rippling laugh. “ Jane, you’re getting ‘ curi- 
ouser ’ every minute.” 

“ Jane isn’t inquisitive; she’s interested in peo- 
ple,” explained Rob in unexpected championship. 
“ It would be a very good thing if some of the rest 
of us were.” 

“ I’m to consider myself crushed, I suppose,” 
was the quick rejoinder, as the four stopped a mo- 
ment in front of Rob’s house. “ But I don’t feel 
so a bit, Mr. Rob Randall, and I have to know 
something about people before I get interested in 
them.” Carol stalked off, her slender figure very 
erect, and her dark head held high. 

61 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

The short distance to the Stuart house was 
covered in silence, and there Jane stopped, but 
David went on to see Carol to her own door. 

“ Good-night. Come over/’ called Jane. 

For a moment there was no response. Then 
came the quick rush of flying feet, and Carol flung 
herself into Jane’s arms. 

“ J-Jane, I’m scared, and that’s why I’m so 
hateful,” she stammered penitently. “ Don’t you 
dare to like that girl better than you do me. I 
can — I can see it ooming, and I just can’t bear 
her.” 

“ Goosey ! ” scorned Jane, hugging her, neverthe- 
less, and feeling, as she often did with Carol, half 
protecting, half annoyed. “You make me tired. 
I don’t even know her. Come along ; I’ll walk 
home with you, too. Poor Spinksy is as patient 
as the Sphinx he was named for.” 


62 


CHAPTER IV 


THE SILVER PURSE 

For the next week Jane was vividly conscious 
of each day as it passed, but, dominating every- 
thing, was the thought of the approaching Satur- 
day when she and Carol were to go into the city 
with Mrs. Heath for a morning of shopping and 
an afternoon concert given by a famous violinist 
and his wife. The six days between seemed in- 
credibly long, and Jane’s impatience increased as 
time went on. 

“ You’d think this Saturday was made just for 
us,” she said, walking into her mother’s room for 
a final inspection before starting for the train. 
“ Perfectly glorious weather, and I’m all of a 
twitter about that music. It seems as if stores and 
luncheon wouldn’t count at all, but I dare say I 
shall be able to get a little fun out of those.” 
Jane’s eyes were twinkling as she turned slowly 
around so mother might see that all was in order. 

Mrs. Stuart looked up with a preoccupied 
air from the letter she was reading. Then, catch- 
ing Jane’s mirthful glance, she smiled also. 

63 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ You’re going to love the music, I’m sure,” she 
said with satisfying enthusiasm. “ And I shan’t 
be surprised to hear that you’ve enjoyed the stores, 
and that the luncheon was the nicest you’ve ever 
tasted. Are those the best-looking shoes you own, 
Janey ? ” 

“ Yes’m.” Jane’s meek response ended with a 
little sigh. “ I don’t know why I’m so hard on 
shoes, mumsey. These aren’t so very old. Any- 
way Davy did the best he could for them this 
morning, and I’m going to forget about them.” 

“ That’s right. In every other way you look as 
nice as I could ask, and the shoes aren’t so bad 
after all.” Mrs. Stuart stood a little way off, and 
directed a critical gaze at that portion of her 
daughter’s toilet. 

“ You’re such a comfort, mumsey. I’m glad 
you like me. Of course I can’t expect to look 
as stylish as Carol. She’s awfully nice about my 
clothes, only she praises so much I never can 
believe she means it all. Well, I must get my 
gloves. The auto will be here in a minute.” 

Half-way to the door Jane turned abruptly. 
“ Oh, mother, I think I’ll spend the five-dollar 
gold-piece Uncle Stephen gave me. And do you 
mind if I carry the silver purse — the heirloom, I 
mean ? ” She added this last explanation because 
her mother, who had gone back to the reading of 
64 
































































. 







The Silver Purse 

her letter, was regarding her with a puzzled ex- 
pression. 

“ Why, I thought Aunt Caroline said that purse 
was to be treasured and handed down. Besides, I 
think it is altogether too beautiful and ornate for 
a little — for a young girl to carry. And if you 
should lose it — oh, Janey.” 

“ I suppose it would be dreadful. But then I 
shouldn’t lose it, and I’m crazy to take it because 
Carol thinks it’s so stunning. Don’t you believe 
I might, mother ? ” 

Mother hesitated for so long that her daughter 
began to feel hopeful. Then she answered slowly, 
“I shall have to leave it to your own judgment, 
Jane. You must take the responsibility of de- 
ciding.” 

“ Oh, dear, I do wish sometimes you weren’t so 
firm when you start out to be,” Jane said with a 
rueful face. “ You’re such a pretty little mother I 
think it would be much more appropriate for you 
to say * My darling daughter, take the heirloom 
and use it. Nothing is beautiful if not useful,’ or 
something like that.” 

Mrs. Stuart laughed. “ You know you children 
are all going to help me be firm about bringing 
you up. It — it isn’t always easy not to let you 
have your own way, darling.” 

“ It always seems perfectly easy,” Jane muttered 
65 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

impatiently, and then felt ashamed of herself 
because the laughter died out of mother’s eyes. 
“ Well, anyway, you don’t care if I spend my 
gold-piece, do you ? ” she went on with the air of 
a martyr. 

“ Of course not. Why don’t you get a pair of 
slippers, Janey ? Pretty ones, to wear if you go to 
a party.” 

“ Oh, mother, do I have to buy something nec- 
essary ? When you have a present you want to 
buy something that you wouldn’t have if you 
didn’t have it. That sounds funny, but I know 
what I mean.” 

“ So do I, dear. I’ve felt just that way myself. 

But ” Mrs. Stuart’s eyes turned involuntarily 

to her letter. “ It’s from Mr. Hartley, Janey,” 
she went on with apparent irrelevance. 

Mr. Hartley was the lawyer in Sterling who had 
charge of Mrs. Stuart’s affairs, and Jane’s face 
clouded at the mention of his name. 

“ Oh me, oh my ! His letters are always as blue 
as indigo. I wish he’d write on pink paper, or do 
something to chirk ’em up a little. I suppose 
this time he thinks you’re never going to get any- 
thing back from the bank. Don’t you believe it, 
mumsey. He’s a pessimus. I know that isn’t the 
right word, but you ought to be glad I can re- 
member that much Latin.” 

66 


The Silver Purse 


By this time mother was laughing, which was 
just what Jane wanted, and with a hasty kiss she 
ran out of the room. She did not feel like talking 
over discouraging affairs this morning. 

“ Dear me, I wish mother wouldn’t leave things 
to my judgment,” she thought half resentfully. 
“ She knows then I’m bound to decide her way.” 
And at that instant the silver purse lying on her 
bed caught her eye. She loved the network of 
links, and the heavy clasp where two puffy-cheeked 
cherub heads gazed eternally at each other. Per- 
haps it was too showy for her to carry, but this 
one time couldn’t matter. 

“ You lovely thing,” she said aloud, catching it 
up, and examining the clasp and chain with crit- 
ical eyes and fingers. “ That’s as strong — as 
strong as an ox. If I use my own judgment I 
shall take it. And when I bring it back safe and 
sound mother will see that I’m to be trusted.” 

The sudden tooting of an automobile horn made 
her slip into her trim little coat, and snatch up 
her gloves in frantic haste. “ Anyway, I’ll have 
to carry this purse now, because my money is in 
it and I haven’t time to change,” she thought, as 
she ran down-stairs calling back farewells. 

Before the automobile was out of sight the en- 
tire Stuart family had gathered to shout good-byes 
and best wishes. Mother and David were at the 
6 ; 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

front door, Judy and Susan Trot waved dish-towels 
from the kitchen, Kenneth and Mr. Chope emerged 
from the barn. 

“ You ought to have a good time with all of 
them wishing it so hard,” remarked Mrs. Heath. 
“ You certainly have a nice family, Janey.” 

“ I know it. I’m really quite fond of them my- 
self.” Jane was leaning out of the machine for a 
last wave of the hand, and as she settled into her 
seat realized that she was clutching the chain of 
her purse so hard that it hurt. “ Fve got a nice 
family,” she repeated half to herself, “ but not a — 
mite — of judgment.” The last words were jerked 
out with such conviction that Carol stared at her 
with frank curiosity. 

“ Why ? What makes you say that ? ” she asked. 

“ Oh — nothing. I hope Rob hasn't forgotten 
that he is going to bring those curtain measure- 
ments to the train.” Jane’s sudden change of 
topic was so like her that Carol hardly noticed 
that her question had not been answered. 

“ Why didn’t he take them to your house ? ” 

“ He said something about getting some money 
changed,” Jane answered vaguely, and by this 
time they were at the station, and signals were 
showing the approach of the train. 

“ I’m afraid Mr. Robert Randall won’t get his 
curtains,” Jane almost shouted, as the noisy ar- 
68 


The Silver Purse 

rival of the train made polite conversation impos- 
sible. 

“ You bet he will if it depends on him/’ came 
in a similar shout from just behind her, and there 
was Rob, very red in the face and rather breath- 
less, but smiling as calmly as though he had all 
the time in the world. 

“ There, Lady Jane,” he went on, thrusting a 
paper and a crisp bill into her hand as he helped 
her on to the train, “ there are the measurements 
and five dollars. Of course we don’t expect you 
to spend nearly all that, but we wanted to seem 
princely.” 

“ All right. I’ll spend it ‘ freely but not ex- 
travagantly,’ and bring back the change,” Jane 
said with a laugh, and then the train started and 
her day was fairly begun. 

During the ride to Boston the girls kept up a 
gay chatter, but underneath it all Jane was trying 
to plan how to spend her gold-piece. Finally she 
soothed her conscience by deciding not to buy 
anything merely ornamental. Drawing materials 
and paints she positively must have, and these 
would be a sensible compromise between necessity 
and frivolity, she assured herself earnestly. After 
which wise decision she felt much happier, found it 
pleasanter to think about her mother, and slightly 
relaxed her exhausting grip of the heirloom. 

69 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

Mrs. Heath having to go to the dressmaker, it 
was agreed that the girls should do their shopping 
together and meet her in time for an early lunch. 
Before they separated, however, they all went into 
a store where Mrs. Heath had left a bracelet to be 
mended. 

Carol’s observant eyes were taking in everything 
within their range of vision while she waited. 
‘‘Jane Stuart, just look at those rings,” she said 
suddenly, clutching Jane’s arm and walking her 
over to a counter where a tray of rings reposed. 
“That’s just what I’ve been wanting, a ring for 
my little finger, and these are too dinky for any- 
thing. Only five dollars, too, and that’s cheap for 
such good-looking ones. Try one on, J.” 

Jane pulled off her glove, and slipped on her 
smallest finger a curiously wrought silver ring set 
with turquoise. 

“ It looks as if it was meant for your finger,” said 
Carol. “There’s another one just like it, but it 
would have to be made smaller for me. I like 
that blue and silver on your hand awfully well. 
There’s such a difference in hands,” she ended 
with an experienced air. “ Some wouldn’t look at 
all well in that combination.” 

Now that she thought about it, Jane realized 
that this was what she had been wanting, too. 
She spread out her hand and gazed at the ring re- 
70 


The Silver Purse 


flectively. She certainly couldn’t deny that it 
was stylish — yes, and very becoming. 

“ I’ll tell you, Lady Jane,” Carol’s mind had 
gone ahead swiftly, “ let’s buy these two just alike 
and present them to each other. Oh, do, Janey ! 
You said you were going to spend the money your 
uncle gave you.” 

“ I am,” Jane hesitated, “ but ” 

“ Don’t tease Jane to do anything she doesn’t 
want to do,” said Mrs. Heath, who had come up in 
time to hear Carol’s proposition. “ You’ve picked 
out the prettiest ring in the tray, Jane. If you 
don’t take it I think I’ll buy it for my niece. It’s 
exceedingly good for the money.” 

“ Oh, mother, you’ll make Jane think she ought 
to let you have it,” Carol cried in dismay. “ Why 
don’t you buy one of the others for Helen ? ” 

“ There isn’t another one I care for. But I’d 
much rather Jane would have it if she wants it. 
That’s honest, Jane.” 

Jane looked up with a smile. She and Mrs. 
Heath were very good friends now. “I under- 
stand,” she said slowly. “ I did mean to get some- 
thing else. But it’s my own money. It would be 

great fun to do as Carol says. I believe ” 

“ You believe you will,” interrupted Carol tri- 
umphantly, and almost before Jane realized the 
purchase was accomplished, her ring adorned 

n 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

her finger, and Carol's was left to be made 
smaller. 

“ Now we must think up some perfectly dandy 
inscription that will make every one curious,” 
Carol said as they walked toward the store where 
they were to begin their shopping. At that mo- 
ment they were passing a window full of artists' 
materials, and Jane sighed involuntarily as she 
gazed. 

“ Don't you just hate that old saying about ‘you 
can't eat your cake and have it, too ' ? ” she in- 
quired abruptly. “ It gets on my nerves awfully.” 

Carol saw so little connection between mysteri- 
ous inscriptions and cake that she stared blankly 
for a second. Then with an expression of great 
seriousness she said anxiously, “ Jane, dear, do you 
think that cake you made last Saturday went to 
your brain? I've noticed all the week you've 
brought the conversation round to cake or cooking 
whenever you could.” 

“ You wretch,” laughed Jane, with a quick re- 
turn to her usual gayety. “ I am proud of that 
cake. And now I'm going to have the time of my 
life. See if I don't.” 

It was fun hunting for a curtain material which 
should combine the greatest possible beauty with 
the least possible expense, and they went to several 
stores before they were both satisfied. 

72 


The Silver Purse 


“ There/' said Jane, counting over her change 
carefully, “ I shall have two dollars and eighty- 
three cents to give back to the boys, and I'm sure 
they can't expect more than that." 

“ I should say not." Carol was leading the way 
toward another department of the store. “ I saw 
something over here as we passed, and I want to 
investigate it." 

The object of her search proved to be a huge 
bowl which was trying to look as much like cut 
glass as possible. It was marked one dollar and 
sixty-nine cents, and its appearance so far exceeded 
its price that Carol was in ecstasy. 

“ Do you know what I'm going to do?" she 
demanded. “ I'm going to have that sent to Bel- 
haven and give it to the little house. It will be 
perfectly fine for lemonade when the boys invite us 
there for parties. I think it's always nice to give 
a little present at a house-warming, don't you ? " 

“ Lovely," agreed Jane, wishing wildly that the 
idea had occurred to her before she spent her gold- 
piece. She pulled off her glove while Carol was 
making her purchase, and fortified herself with a 
glance at her new ring, deciding that it was even 
more becoming than she had supposed. 

On the way to the hotel where they were to meet 
Mrs. Heath, Carol stopped suddenly before the 
window of a shoe store. 


7 3 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Do you mind coming in while I get some 
slippers? Those black satin ones are perfectly 
dear. Only four dollars, too. It must be a sale.” 

Jane sat silent while Carol tried on pair after 
pair of dainty slippers. She longed to put her foot 
on a stool and see how it would look in some of 
the pretty shoes. “ Goodness knows I need a pair,” 
she said to herself forlornly. Suddenly she was 
conscious that she had nothing in her hand, and 
she looked anxiously for the silver purse and 
found it lying on the seat beside her. It frightened 
her to realize that she could put it down without 
knowing it. 

Once out of the store again her good spirits re- 
turned. “ I’m not going to cry over spilt milk,” 
she told herself with' admirable resolution. “It 
isn’t every day that I get a ring, and luncheon at 
a hotel, and a concert.” 

The lunch was delicious, and Jane’s happiness 
rose still higher. “ It’s so lovely to be enjoying 
yourself as much as you possibly can and know all 
the time that it isn’t going to stop ; that there’s 
something just as nice ahead of you,” she said with 
a sigh of satisfaction as the last morsel of raspberry 
ice slipped down her throat. 

“ The best part of my day is over,” Carol observed 
gloomily. “ I expect to be bored stiff by the 
concert.” 


7 4 


The Silver Purse 

“ Why, Carol Heath, I thought you simply 
loved music.” 

“ So I do — some kinds. I’m afraid this is going 
to be too Why, mother, there’s that Worces- 

ter girl I roomed with for a while at school. I’m 
going over to speak to her.” 

In two minutes she was back again followed by 
her friend. “ Mother, this is Elinor Merrick, and 
this is my friend, Jane Stuart, Elinor. Oh, mother, 
Mrs. Merrick and Elinor are here just for the day,, 
and they have an extra ticket for Hamlet, and 
they want me to go.” 

“ But, Carol, you forget that Jane is our guest.” 

“ Oh, don’t mind me, Mrs. Heath,” Jane inter- 
posed quickly. “ I shall love to go with you, and 
I know just how Carol feels.” 

“ Janey, you’re a duck. You’re sure you don’t 
mind ? I want you and mother to come over and 
meet Mrs. Merrick. Isn’t Jane a sweet thing, 
Elinor, to let me go ? ” and talking, laughing, 
giving her mother no chance for protest, Carol led 
the way to the other table. 

After that everything was quickly arranged. 
Mrs. Heath and Jane could not help liking Mrs. 
Merrick and her attractive daughter, and the desire 
of the two girls to be together was so genuine and 
so understandable that it could hardly be denied. 

In spite of Carol’s absence Jane couldn’t be any- 
75 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

thing but happy when she found herself in the 
softly-lighted concert hall. They were early, and 
there were still many empty seats. To Jane’s 
surprise people were already standing along the 
sides of the hall. 

“ How they must love it,” she said to Mrs. 
Heath, “ to be willing to stand for so long.” As 
she spoke her eye singled out some one not far from 
them ; a girl older than herself, with brown eyes 
full of eager expectancy. “ See that girl,” she 
added in a low tone ; “ she looks as if she were go- 
ing to enjoy it more than any one else, even if she 
hasn’t any seat.” 

Just then the brown eyes turned in their direc- 
tion and caught Jane’s glance in so friendly a way 
that it seemed as though their owner must realize 
that some one was taking an interest in her. 

“ Why, Janey, how stupid of me ! ” Mrs. Heath 
exclaimed suddenly. “ Some one may have Carol’s 
seat, of course. Should you like to ask that pretty 
girl ? ” 

“ Oh, may I ? I should love it.” Jane was out 
of her seat in a twinkling and making her way to 
where the girl was standing. It seemed to her 
that an instant friendship was established when 
she made known her errand, and the brown eyes 
looked gratefully into her own gray ones. 

“ It’s Mrs. Heath’s ticket, and she thought of 
76 


The Silver Purse 


it,” she explained honestly, as they went back 
together, “ so you needn’t thank me.” 

“ It was you who picked me out in the first 
place,” answered the girl with a laugh and an 
obstinate shake of the head. “ I caught you at it, 
and I shall thank you.” 

Jane laughed, too. “ I’m awfully glad to have 
you sit with us, because you look as if you were 
going to love the music so much, and I know I 
am.” 

“ Oh, love it 1 ” answered the girl, drawing a 
sudden sharp breath, as though no words could 
express the smallest part of her anticipation. And 
then the next minute they were in their seats, and 
she was thanking Mrs. Heath. 

The hall filled rapidly now, and a friend of Mrs. 
Heath coming unexpectedly to sit on the other 
side of her, the two girls were left to talk with 
each other. Before the concert began, Jane had 
learned that her new friend loved music, could 
play the piano a little, and was even anxious to 
practice scales and exercises. Which last seemed 
to Jane quite incomprehensible, until she reflected 
that she would be quite willing to put slow, patient 
work into drawing, if not into music. 

“ Do you read German ? ” she asked, noticing 
for the first time the book the other girl was 
carrying. 


77 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Yes. My mother was German, and my brother 
and I were born in Germany. I’m quite like my 
father, and almost wholly American, but Fritz 
resembles mother.” 

“ Tell me more, please,” begged Jane, keenly 
interested in this new acquaintance whose life had 
been so different from her own. 

“ There isn’t much more. Except that when I 
was fourteen my mother and father died, and 
I came over here to live with my grandfather. 
And Fritz went to school there for three years 
more, and ‘has been with us for the last two years.” 

“ But — but you can’t be old enough for all 
that,” Jane said impulsively, trying her best to 
make fourteen and two and three amount to less 
than they really do. 

“ I’m nineteen, and my brother is twenty-one. 
He is studying to be an artist.” The girl’s eyes, 
which had laughed over Jane’s funny protest, 
were full of pride as she mentioned her brother. 

“ Oh, an artist,” began Jane eagerly, and then a 
burst of applause drew her attention to the stage, 
where Mr. and Mrs. Marburg were just appearing. 

She gave herself up to the charm of the music, 
and let it carry her where it would. At times she 
forgot everything around her, even the performers 
whose fingers wrought magic from their instru- 
ments. It was almost, she fancied, as if her spirit 
78 


The Silver Purse 


floated off on the waves of sound only to be en- 
veloped in color, light, melody — all that her 
beauty-loving soul held dearest. 

When the first number ended the two girls 
turned simultaneously to each other. “ Does it 
make you feel all queer and choky here ? ” asked 
Jane, putting her hand involuntarily to her 
throat. “ Isn't it the most wonderful thing you 
ever heard ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered the girl, smiling a little and 
looking as though she knew exactly how Jane was 
feeling. The hall resounded with applause, and 
under cover of it Jane spoke again. 

“ I'm all thrilly,” she began shyly, and then 
hesitated and laughed softly at her own embarrass- 
ment. She was gazing into the eager brown eyes, 
which by their very responsiveness impelled her 
to stumble on, though her thoughts wouldn't 
come into shape. “ It's just as if,” she tried again 
with a little frown, “ as if — all at once — I could 
be very sure of the part of me that thinks and 

feels — the real me, I mean Oh, why am I 

trying to say this ? ” she broke off impatiently. 
“ It's foolish — it's ” 

“I understand,” the other girl said quickly. 
“That's the way Fritz and I feel when we 
hear beautiful music. I shall tell him about 
you.” 


79 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

Jane smiled, frankly pleased, but before she 
could say anything the music had begun again. 

“ Do you know how much Mr. Marburg does 
for other people ? ” the other girl asked when the 
next pause came in the music, and then she told 
about the orchestra the great violinist had estab- 
lished for girls and boys, how these children had 
been trained to express themselves through their 
instruments, and how the healing influence of 
music had crept into some of the poorest homes. 
“ He believes in service to others,” she ended 
dreamily. “ And Fritz and I just love him for it.” 

“ Service.” Jane said the word over in her 
mind as the lovely music began again. What was 
it Dr. Barnes had said in his sermon last Sunday ? 
Something about service to others being the final 
measure of a man. Mother had talked it over 
with them that afternoon, and Jane felt ashamed 
as she remembered how many good resolves she 
had made and never thought of since. This little 
talk about Mr. Marburg would keep her from for- 
getting again, she was sure. She longed to find 
some one at once who needed her help ; she 

Something fell from her lap with a metallic 
clash just as the music ended, and her new friend 
stooped quickly to pick it up. 

“ What a beautiful purse,” she said enthusi- 
astically, holding it a moment before restoring it 
80 


The Silver Purse 


to Jane. “ It’s old, isn’t it ? I have one some- 
thing like it that belonged to my grandmother, 
only mine isn’t so beautiful. Do you dare to 
carry it for shopping ? Mine’s altogether too pre- 
cious for that.” 

“ Yes, it’s old,” Jane said ruefully, “ and if I ever 
get it home it will stay there. I’ve almost worn 
my glove through clutching it. Mother didn’t 
want me to take it,” she went on with involun- 
tary candor, “ but she told me to use my own judg- 
ment. I don’t know how you can use what you 
don’t seem to have,” she ended, laughing a little, 
and then the short intermission was over, and the 
audience settled into silence. 

As the music went on, Jane’s eyes were fixed 
on the face of the violinist, her ears heard every 
exultant, soaring note, but her mind was busy 
with her own particular problems. Suddenly the 
familiar, overwhelming desire to see mother, and 
be sure that everything was right with her filled 
her thought to the exclusion of everything else. 
It seemed ages since morning, and almost anything 
might have happened. She caught her breath 
with an odd little gasp, and looked around, half 
ashamed, to see if any one had noticed. Then, 
once more, everything but the appealing, insistent 
beauty of the music was swept from her conscious 
thought. 

81 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Isn’t it wonderful ? The way they work to- 
gether, I mean,” said the other girl when the final 
number ended, and the musicians were recalled 
again and again. “ Fritz always says that’s what 
makes for success in anything.” She quoted her 
brother with an assurance which testified her own 
faith in him. “ I’m sorry I must hurry, but I 
have to make a train. I hope we shall meet again 
some time.” And the next minute she had thanked 
Mrs. Heath for the seat, squeezed Jane’s hand, 
and was slipping skilfully through the crowd. 

“ Janey, do you mind going to the station alone 
if I put you on the car ? ” asked Mrs. Heath as 
they drifted down the crowded aisle. “ My friend 
wants me to do one errand with her, and I shall 
have time enough if you will go ahead and get 
the parcels from the check-room.” 

“ I don’t mind at all.” Jane was secretly rather 
glad that she was to have a chance to think things 
over quite by herself. They were outside of the 
hall by this time, and Mrs. Heath slipped two 
quarters into Jane’s coat pocket. “ One of those 
will pay at the check-room,” she said as they 
reached the car, “ and the other you can give to 
the porter for putting you and the parcels on the 
train. I shall be there on time, so au revoir.” 


82 


CHAPTER V 


“ I’VE LOST THE HEIRLOOM ” 

Jane’s thoughts fairly tumbled over each other 
as the car bore her to the station. It seemed to 
her she could hardly wait to get home to tell 
mother and David all about the lovely music and 
that very nice girl, and the luncheon and shop- 
ping. “ Spinksy will be so tickled over that 
lemonade bowl Carol is going to give the boys,” 
she thought a little wistfully. Half unconsciously 
she fingered her new ring. Even without taking 
off her glove she knew just how the blue and 
silver looked against her hand. 

“ It’s very stylish,” she said to herself with a 
sigh, “ but I ought to have known better than to 
spend my money that way when mother is trying 
so hard to be economical. Spinksy wouldn’t have 
done it. He and mother work together so well.” 

For an instant it seemed as though some one 
had just said that to her about mother and David. 
Then she remembered that her new friend had re- 
marked it of Mr. and Mrs. Marburg. “ And Fritz 
says,” Jane meditated, with an amused conscious- 
ness of taking a great liberty with the name of an 
83 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

entire stranger, “ 1 that working together perfectly 
makes for success/ I like that. I wonder if he’s 
preachy. I wish I could know more about the 
Marburgs, and the children’s orchestra. And I 
should like to see that girl again and meet Fritz. 
I just love people who make me think nice, serious 
thoughts — set to music.” 

She looked out of the window and realized that 
they were approaching the vicinity of the station. 
A friendly baby on the opposite side of the car 
caught her eye, and she nodded and smiled until 
the child made shy response. The mother looked 
overburdened with the child and several parcels, 
and Jane made up her mind to help her when 
they should reach the station. In the warmth of 
her resolve it was almost a disappointment when 
a man came in from the platform and took the 
baby with an air of proud proprietorship. 

When they reached the broad square which 
must be crossed before arriving at the station, 
there was a complicated blockade of cars and 
wagons which made passengers whose train time 
was near consult their watches with a worried air. 
One by one people slipped off the car in order to 
walk across the square, until Jane began to get 
nervous, and finally decided to walk, too. 

Once outside where she could see the station 
clock, she found that she still had plenty of time, 
84 


“I’ve Lost the Heirloom” 


and she was just about to start across, when the 
rapping of a cane on the sidewalk close beside her 
startled her and made her pause. 

Jane realized at once that the man standing 
there was blind, and with her usual quickness 
concluded that he wanted to cross the square and 
hoped in this way to attract attention to his need. 
She lingered a moment irresolutely. It was 
strange that some one did not take his arm and 
lead him across, she thought. Her ready sym- 
pathy went out to him. To be alone — and blind 
— in the midst of this hurrying crowd — she could 
hardly imagine anything more dreadful. 

It made her shiver to think of touching him, 
but her compassion and the desire to be helpful 
conquered every other feeling. Impulsively she 
stepped along to where he was standing with his 
back toward her, still rapping at intervals on the 
sidewalk, and grasped his arm. 

“ Come on,” she said, trying to be as cheerful 
and friendly as possible, though every inch of her 
wanted to run away. “ I'm going across and I'll 
take you.” 

For an instant the man yielded to the surprise 
of being hurried along by this masterful young 
person ; then he pulled away from her strongly. 

" 'Ere, you,” he said with disconcerting frank- 
ness, “ wot yer doin' ? Hi don't wanter cross the 
85 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

street. That’s my stand there on that corner. 
My boy comes and fetch.es me when hit’s time.” 

And then Jane saw with a distinct shock that 
his left hand was full of shoe-strings, and she real- 
ized that the rapping of his cane was intended to 
attract customers. 

“ Oh, excuse me. I’ll take you right back,” she 
apologized, grasping his grimy sleeve with an even 
greater shrinking than she had felt before. As 
she piloted him back to the sidewalk she could 
hear him muttering something about interfering 
people who wanted to spoil the little business a 
poor man had. 

She took from her pocket one of the quarters 
Mrs. Heath had placed there. “ There, I’ve put 
you in the exact spot,” she said anxiously, “ and 
here’s twenty-five cents, and you needn’t mind 
about giving me any shoe-strings, because I’m in a 
hurry.” 

Going across the square, Jane fancied nervously 
that she could still hear the tapping of the cane. 
“ Ugh ! He might have been the least little bit 
thankful for what I meant to do,” she said to her- 
self as she entered the huge station. “ After this, 
Jane Stuart, you’ll mind your own affairs, and try 
not to be so helpful.” 

In pursuance of which stern resolve she almost 
walked over a white-haired old gentleman who 
86 



THE OLD GENTLEMAN PROTESTED 



“I’ve Lost the Heirloom” 

had stumbled, and gone down on his knees just 
in front of her. She was ashamed afterward to 
think that her first impulse was to go on as quickly 
as possible, but before she had time to do that she 
found herself helping him to his feet. The suit- 
case he had been carrying had sprung open as it 
fell, and scattered part of its contents on the floor. 

Jane began to pick up things at once and lay 
them hurriedly into the suit-case. 

“ My dear young lady,” the old gentleman pro- 
tested, trying to stoop to aid her, and giving it up 
on account of his shaking knees. “ My dear young 

lady, I ” he broke off suddenly to look at the 

station clock, and to compare it with his watch, 
which he held to his ear. “ Dear me ! What 
shall I do if I miss this train ? She told me ” 

He looked at Jane so helplessly that she, cram- 
ming the last things into the suit-case, felt at once 
that she must protect him from further trouble. 

“ If you’ll tell me where you’re going perhaps I 
shall have time to see you on your train,” she sug- 
gested, rising to her feet. 

“ Oh, I couldn’t possibly let you,” said the old 
gentleman, making a tremulous effort to grasp the 
suit-case, and dropping a book which he had some- 
how managed to keep under his arm. 

Jane went to the rescue again, only to have her 
hat nearly jerked off her head by the crooked 
87 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

handle of the umbrella, now quite unmanageable 
in the trembling old hands. 

“ Bless my soul ! I’m not fit to be trusted out 
alone,” the old gentleman said plaintively. “ If I 
ever get back to Marston, I’ll 

"Oh, are you going to Marston?” Jane asked 
joyously, relieved to hear a name which sounded 
familiar. “ I know where the Marston trains go 
out, and I’ll take you there.” She had straight- 
ened her hat, and restored the book and umbrella 
to their owner while she was talking ; now she 
picked up the sulVcase and started across the sta- 
tion. 

“ I don’t know how to thank you,” the weary 
old gentleman said breathlessly as they reached 
the train, and a brakeman took the suit-case. “ I 
hope we shall meet again some time.” Another 
passenger mounting the steps necessitated further 
progress, and the old man disappeared within the 
car. 

Going out through the gate again Jane’s eye fell 
on the nearest clock, and she realized that it was 
quite time for her to go to the parcel-room. “ I’d 
better take a quarter out of my own purse,” she 
told herself, “ to make up for the one I spent. I 
hope that poor shoe-string man’s feelings have got 
over being hurt.” 

And then, with a suddenness that left her shak- 
88 


“I’ve Lost the Heirloom ” 


ing, she discovered that the heirloom was no longer 
hanging from her wrist, nor clutched tightly in 
her hand. She tried desperately to recall when 
she had last been conscious of it, but the most that 
she could be sure of was that she had it when she 
started in the car. “ I remember thinking I would 
put Mrs. Heath’s money into it,” she said to her- 
self despairingly. “ And then I changed my 
mind.” 

She started once more toward the parcel-room, 
gripping tightly the quarter that still remained. 
“ It’s up to me to get those packages on the train. 
But — the heirloom ! And two dollars and eighty- 
three cents to give back to the boys ! ” This last 
thought ended in a deep sigh, and in her absorp- 
tion Jane walked straight into some one who 
seemed to be trying to put himself in her way. 

“ I beg your pardon,” she said hastily, without 
even glancing at the person, but when she tried to 
go on she found her progress still impeded, and 
she looked up indignantly to meet Rob Randall’s 
familiar smile. 

“ I was wondering how many times I could 
make you walk over me, Lady Jane,” he said 
calmly. “ Just because you’ve spent the day in 
the city is no reason why you should snub your 
little out-of-town playmates.” 

“ Oh, Rob, oh, Rob ! ” The very sight of his 
89 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

familiar face, so associated with David’s, was mak- 
ing her almost incoherent in her relief. “ Robert 
Randall, I’ve done the most awful thing you ever 
heard of. I’ve — I’ve ” 

“ Go easy, Jane. See here, we’ve got twenty 
minutes before the train starts. Now take time 
and tell me all about it.” In his desire to be 
soothing Rob was so funnily stern that Jane 
had to smile, but she was serious again in a 
moment. 

“ Rob, I’m not fit to be trusted with anything,” 
she confided, looking at him with despairing eyes. 
“ You see I got dreadfully rattled over that shoe- 
string man, but I’m almost sure I had it on the 
car. And, of course, I had to grab for my hat when 
the old gentleman’s umbrella ” 

“ Begin again now and go very slowly,” Rob 
said in an exceedingly gentle voice. He was look- 
ing at her anxiously, but Jane was too unhappy to 
notice. 

“ Why, Mrs. Heath gave me two quarters,” began 
Jane obediently, “ and I gave one of them to the 
shoe-string man, and then the old gentleman’s suit- 
case was so heavy ” 

“ It was his umbrella before,” Rob murmured 
helplessly. “ Jane, what is it that’s worrying you, 
anyway ? ” 

“ I’m explaining it to you, if you’ll only listen,” 
90 


“I’ve Lost the Heirloom” 


she answered with pathetic dignity. “ I’ve lost 
two dollars and eighty-three cents that belonged 
to you boys, and — the heirloom.” 

“ Hang the money,” growled Rob. “ Don’t you 
trouble a bit about that. And I don’t know what 
your precious heirloom is, but I’ll get it back or 
buy you another, see if I don’t.” 

The absurdity of buying another heirloom didn’t 
strike Jane at the moment. She was only conscious 
of the sustaining comfort of having some one want 
to make things easier for her. 

“ Rob, you’re next best to having Davy,” she re- 
marked with a sudden little sniff which her tactful 
friend ignored. 

“ All right, just play I am old Spinksy. And 
now let’s get on the train.” 

“ But I must get Mrs. Heath’s packages first. 
They’re at the parcel-room.” 

“ Jiminy ! 1 The worst is yet to come.’ Well, 

we’ll get ’em and then hustle for seats. This train 
is always crowded.” 

Jane was really thankful that she couldn’t sit 
with Carol, who was looking daggers at the pre- 
sumptuous woman who had taken the seat she was 
trying to save, nor with Mrs. Heath, who was 
inclined to resent having been made so anxious. 
Instead she slipped gladly into one of the small 
end seats, where she was completely extinguished 
9i 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

by a woman carrying a huge box, and could think 
over her troubles in peace. 

After that, in her absorption, she was hardly 
conscious of anything that was going on until the 
journey was half over, and she realized that Carol 
was sitting down beside her. 

“ I've had my eye on that woman ever since we 
left the last station/’ laughed Carol. “ She’s been 
dropping and picking up bundles every other 
minute, and I wondered if you were still alive.” 

“ Has she? ” asked Jane, a little dazed by this 
sudden interruption of her thoughts. She was 
just in the midst of an imaginary interview with 
Aunt Caroline in which she was trying to break 
the news of the loss of the heirloom. 

“ Has she? Well, where have you been? Do 
tell me about the girl you met at the concert. 
Mother said you were very chummy with some 
one.” 

Jane drew a quick breath of relief and plunged 
into a description of the concert. It occurred to 
her that if she could keep up a lively conversation 
Carol might not notice that the silver purse was 
gone. It seemed as if she couldn’t explain about 
that again to-night. 

“ She was an awfully nice girl ; pretty and rather 
stylish. She wore her clothes well, you know,” 
ended Jane, feeling around for the qualities that 
92 


“I’ve Lost the Heirloom” 


most attracted Carol. “ I’d like to see her again, 
but I never thought to tell her my name or to ask 
hers. I loved to talk with her.” 

For some reason it didn’t seem easy to explain 
to Carol just what she had liked best about the 
girl : the little intimate talk which had made her 
feel so thoughtful, so eager to be helpful. She 
could tell all that to mother and David, but with 
Carol for a listener it was different. 

“ For goodness’ sake don’t go off into another 
trance ! Your eyes are as big as dinner-plates. 
Tell me some more. What made you so late for 
the train, and where did you find Rob Randall ? ” 

Carol’s insistent questions brought Jane back to 
the present with a little jump. Suddenly it struck 
her how funny it was that she should have tried 
to lead that unwilling shoe-string man across the 
crowded square. She had meant not to tell any 
one but mother, but she was quite sure it would 
amuse Carol. 

“ I was having adventures,” she began solemnly, 
though the laugh in her eyes spoiled the effect she 
intended. “ Will you promise not to tell what I 
did if I tell you ? I should never hear the last of 
it if the boys got hold of it.” 

Carol assented eagerly, and Jane began her story 
which seemed more and more absurd to her as she 
went on. 


93 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ That’s the funniest thing I ever heard, Jane 
Stuart. But how did you dare ? I wouldn’t have 
touched him for anything.” Carol’s shudder was 
quite uncontrollable. 

“ I suppose I ought to have waited for some 
older person to do it,” confessed Jane soberly. 
“ Spinksy’s always scolding me for rushing into 
things. But — something had made me want to be 
so helpful, and I thought that was the place to be- 
gin.” An irrepressible twinkle lighted her eyes, 
and her dimple came and went, and came again. 

“ I didn’t stop with that,” she went on meekly. 
“ A nice old gentleman fell at my very feet, and I 
just had to help him.” 

To Jane’s relief this story lasted until they 
reached Belhaven, and Carol, deeply interested, 
had no chance to notice the loss of the silver purse. 

“ Say, Jane,” Rob muttered softly as they walked 
toward the automobile, “ I’ve been making up 
advertisements all the way out ; like ‘ Lost : a 
gold-headed gentleman’s cane’ or something of 
that kind. We’ll get your old- ” 

The last part of the sentence was unspoken, for, 
in response to an invitation from Mrs. Heath, Rob 
sprang up beside the chauffeur, and the machine 
glided away from the station and into the cool 
darkness of the street. 

When they reached the Stuart house Rob was 
94 


“I’ve Lost the Heirloom” 


down in a second and waiting to give Jane a 
steadying hand as she stepped from the machine. 
“ Thank you so much, Mrs. Heath, for inviting 
me,” she said once more. “It was just lovely, 
and I shall never forget it. Good-night. Come 
over, Carol.” 

There was a little quiver in Jane’s voice which, 
fortunately, Carol did not notice, but Rob heard it 
and longed to say something consoling. 

“ Look here, Mrs. Janes,” he began, quite un- 
consciously using David’s name for his twin, 
“ promise me that you won’t worry any more to- 
night.” 

“ I can’t help it,” answered Jane decisively. 
“ Any one would worry. And when I think of 
telling mother, and worse than that, Aunt Caro- 
line ! ” Jane stopped for a moment and swallowed 
hard. No boy except her two brothers had ever 
seen her cry, nor ever should, she vowed. Then, 
“ Come in, Rob,” she urged in quite a natural 
tone ; “ you know Davy always has something he 
wants to see you about.” 

“ Thanks, I can’t. Mother will be anxious to 
know about the errand I did for her. Besides, 
they seem to be having a party at your house.” 

Jane, who had been facing the street, turned 
quickly. The shades were up in the brightly 
lighted library, and she could see plainly that 
95 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

mother was talking with a small, white-haired 
lady ; that Kenneth and Judy were clinging fondly 
to an elderly gentleman ; that David’s arm was 
around the shoulders of a tall, dark boy. 

“ Aunt Caroline,” Jane murmured with a little 
catch in her breath. “ And Uncle Stephen and 
Donald. Oh, Rob, I just can’t go in.” 

“ Come over and call on my mother for a few 
minutes.” Rob’s suggestion was sympathetic if 
not very wise. “ They must be going soon. Your 
aunt is putting on her hat.” 

Jane stared blankly into the darkness. All at 
once she was conscious that it had been a long 
day, and that she was tired. She wondered if it 
would do to slip in the back way, and so up to 
her room. Mother would understand, she was 
sure. She half turned toward the back of the 
house, then, with quick impulse, again faced Rob. 

“ You’re not half strict enough to play at being 
Spinksy,” she said with weary decision. “ You 
and he wouldn’t sneak out of anything like that, 
so why should you expect me to? I can just hear 
in my mind’s eye old Spifiksy saying ‘ Play up, 
Mrs. Janes.’ 

“ Oh, I’m not out of my mind,” she went on 
with a little laugh, “ if I did say I could ‘ hear 
with my eye.’ Now I’m going straight into the 
house to have it out with Aunt Caroline before I 
96 


“I’ve Lost the Heirloom” 


get shaky again,” and Jane sped up the path with 
a wave of her hand, leaving Rob to wonder 
whether the joy of being a twin brother would 
make up for the perplexity thereof. 

Once in the house Jane greeted her relatives, re- 
solving meanwhile that the disclosure of her mis- 
fortune should only be postponed until politeness 
had had its way. 

“ Jane, you darling,” cried Aunt Caroline, com- 
ing to her at once and embracing her with the old 
fervor. “ I was so afraid you wouldn’t get here 
before we left. Dear me, how fast you grow. 
Stephen, do see how tall Jane is, and she’s prettier 
than ever, I do believe.” 

“ Any one looks pretty to me when I like her as 
much as I do Jane,” Uncle Stephen said with the 
kind smile that always gave Jane a sense of in- 
expressible well-being. “ Let go of my hands, 
you rascal, Kenneth, so that I may say how do 
you do to your tall sister.” 

Then Donald, rather shy, but quite evidently 
beaming with happiness, came up to greet Jane. 

“ Look at him,” said Aunt Caroline mournfully, 
calling the attention of every one and thereby 
greatly embarrassing her grandson. “ I haven’t 
seen him look so joyous since we took him away 
from here. He doesn’t care a bit about his grand- 
father and me.” 


97 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Oh, grandmother,” protested Donald, casting 
an appealing glance at his grandfather, and losing 
his happy expression entirely. 

“ Now, Caroline, that isn’t fair. Don likes it 
because he’s getting back among his first friends 
again. He’s glad, too, that he’s going to be in a 
home — a real home. This living around in hotels 
isn’t any way ” 

“Stephen, I beg of you, don’t begin on that 
subject,” interrupted Aunt Caroline with a resigned 
air. “ Your Uncle Stephen has a positive spite 
against hotels,” she added, turning to Mrs. Stuart. 
“ I’m sure I’ve given Donald enough entertain- 
ment in the two months he’s been with us. We 
have stayed in at least four different cities, and at 
one beach. And I thought he would just love this 
trip around the world, but he fairly begged to 
come here instead.” Aunt Caroline’s voice was 
growing more and more plaintive, and by this 
time Donald looked wholly uncomfortable. 

“There, there, Caroline,” said Uncle Stephen 
soothingly. “ This is going to be our trip around 
the world, and Donald can take his later. And 
here’s Miss Jane looking at you with big e} 7 es 
because she doesn’t understand anything about it.” 

“ Why, Jane, darling, so you don’t.” Aunt 
Caroline was surprisingly restored to her custom- 
ary joyous animation. “ Well, we’re really going 
98 


“I’ve Lost the Heirloom” 


— next week— with a perfectly delightful party. 
Your mother says Donald may stay here, and — 
oh, I wish we could take Jane instead. I should 
just love to buy pretty things for a girl.” 

“ Caroline, it’s nearly train-time. I can hear 
the station-carriage stopping outside now.” Uncle 
Stephen gently inserted one of his wife’s arms into 
the sleeve of her coat as he spoke. “ You’ve tried 
unsuccessfully to borrow Jane before this, you 
know. You should remember that these young 
people must have a chance to go to school.” 

“ There are plenty of things I don’t do that I 
should,” responded Aunt Caroline petulantly, 
turning to Donald to be buttoned into her coat. 
“And Jane loves traveling, and I’m so fond of 
her.” 

“ But you won’t be, Aunt Caroline, when you 
hear what I’ve done.” Jane’s voice held an un- 
conscious heroism which drew the gaze of the 
entire family, but Jane, herself, had grown very 
pale and was evidently unhappy. “ I’ve — I’ve 
lost the heirloom.” 

“ Well, never mind, child, I’ll buy you some- 
thing to make up for it while I’m abroad. What 
shall I bring you ? ” 

Even to one who knew Aunt Caroline’s capacity 
for saying the unexpected this was a little stagger- 
ing, and Jane tried again. Probably her aunt 
99 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

didn’t remember what it was they called the 
heirloom, she told herself blankly. 

“ You — you don’t understand,” she faltered. 
“ I mean the silver purse.” Jane suddenly felt 
mother’s arm around her, and she finished the 
sentence with more courage, “ The silver purse 
that belonged to little Aunt Jane.” 

For an instant Aunt Caroline hesitated. Then 
she said with an unexpected gentleness, “ It’s too 
bad, but you couldn’t help it, of course. Perhaps 
it will be found. And if it isn’t — well, anyway, 
your Aunt Jane wouldn’t want me to scold her 
namesake.” 

There was an audible sigh of relief from David, 
who had edged up close to Jane, and then, to the 
surprise of every one, Kenneth fairly flew at Aunt 
Caroline and caught her in an embrace that almost 
took her off her feet. “ You darling — woman,” 
he said explosively, and with fiery cheeks rushed 
away, only to be interrupted by Uncle Stephen’s 
friendly arm. 

“ Well, what under the sun did you expect of 
me ? ” demanded Aunt Caroline with some irrita- 
tion. “ From the way you all act any one would 
think I was perfectly inhuman. I do try some- 
times to be, what do you call it, Donald, a real 
sport.” 

“ You certainly succeeded that time,” said her 
ioo 


“I’ve Lost the Heirloom” 


husband promptly. “ It's lucky I ordered that 
carriage ten minutes earlier than necessary, but 
we must go now.” 

“ Don't let her wet even the tips of her little 
shoes,” proposed David, throwing off the shyness 
he usually felt in Aunt Caroline’s presence and 
stepping gallantly to the front. “ Come on, Don.” 
And before the little lady could protest the two 
boys were bearing her gently down the damp walk 
toward the carriage. 

“ That’s one of the happenings that makes me 
know why I can’t help loving Aunt Caroline,” 
said Jane wearily, as she and mother turned back 
into the house. “ But oh, mother, there is such a 
lot to tell you. I’m so sorry for — for this morn- 
ing.” 

“ Why, of course, Janey, I knew you would be.” 
Mother’s dear, satisfying smile gave Jane the first 
feeling of real comfort she had had for some time. 
“ We’ll talk it all over to-morrow, dear. Now come 
and have the supper Susan has saved for you.” 

Later on not even the darkness and mother’s 
good-night kiss could bring sleep to Jane’s eyes. 
Try as hard as she could to still it, a persistent 
little voice inside would keep reminding her that 
she owed the boys two dollars and eighty-three 
cents, and that her own five dollars, out of which 
she might have paid it, was gone. 

IOI 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

Suddenly an illuminating idea struck her, and 
she sat up in the intensity of her relief. Then she 
got out of bed and turned on the light, and 
searched in her top bureau-drawer until she found 
a small blue velvet box. She held her hand un- 
der the light and realized all over again the be- 
comingness of the blue and silver ring, but sternly 
repressing her feelings, she stuck it into the velvet 
groove and closed the box with a snap. 

“ There, if Mrs. Heath still wants it for her niece 
that part of my trouble is over,” she said to herself 
as she slipped back into bed. “ And now perhaps 
I can go to sleep.” 


102 


CHAPTER VI 


THE BAYBERRY-CANDLE GIRL 

“ If you’d been like some people you would 
have said, 4 Jane, I told you that you would lose 
the heirloom/ but instead you just snuggled up 
and put your arm around me. Oh, mother,” Jane 
ended with a remorseful sniff, and cuddled as close 
as she could. It was the morning after her excit- 
ing day in Boston, and she had slipped into 
mother’s bed to tell her all about it before break- 
fast. 

Mother laughed the little tender laugh she al- 
ways had for her elder daughter’s pathetic absurd- 
ities, and cuddled, too. She didn’t seem to mind 
that Jane’s golden locks were straying into her 
eyes, nor that the strong young arms were holding 
her in an almost painful embrace. 

“ What’s the use of saying that after the thing 
is done ? And I’ve no doubt you remembered 
well enough.” 

“ I should say I did. But I was so scared for 
fear Aunt Caroline would have hysterics, or faint 
dead,] away that I couldn’t think of anything 
else.” Jane’s little shudder was quite involuntary. 

103 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Wasn’t she perfectly fine about it, though ? 
Well, I never can make it up to her, but I know 
what to do about the rest of it,” and Jane imparted 
to her mother the plan she had hit upon in regard 
to the ring. 

“ I couldn’t resist having one little wear of it 
this morning,” she finished, pullings one hand out 
from under the bedclothes and holding it up where 
the light could fall on it. “ It’s a dear ring, isn’t 
it, mumsey ? ” 

There was such a wistful note in her voice that 
Mrs. Stuart searched her mind for some solution 
of the problem that would enable Jane to keep 
the ring. “ I wish,” she began hesitatingly, but 
Jane silenced her with an impetuous kiss. 

“ I know just what you’re going to say, and you 
mustn’t. I’m going over to see Mrs. Heath to- 
morrow afternoon and ask her to take the ring. 
And then, out of that money, I can pay the boys 
and settle with Rob for the advertisements.” 

“ I suppose that’s the best way,” mother said re- 
luctantly, struggling with a violent desire to go 
without something herself. “ I should like to 
give you the money for the boys and let you keep 
the ring, Janey, but I’m not sure that it would be 
quite fair. Your ‘ pessimus,’ Mr. Hartley, wrote 
that the bank settlement doesn’t look at all en- 
couraging.” 


104 


The Bayberry-Candle Girl 

“ Oh, mother, and I talked about my own affairs 
like a selfish beast and wouldn’t let you tell me 
anything about yours — ours, I mean.” The force 
of Jane’s repentant hug brought tears into her own 
eyes. “ After this I’m going to work with you. 
That’s what ‘ Fritz ’ says I ought to do. That is, 
he doesn’t know me, and what do you suppose 
he’d say if he knew a strange girl was calling 
him by his first name? Anyway he and his nice 
sister and that glorious music made me feel so 
good and helpful yesterday. I only hope it may 
last.” 

“ Next time, darling, try being helpful right 
here in Belhaven instead of when you’re alone in 
the city,” mother suggested gently, hating to 
quench her daughter’s ardor. 

“ Yes’m. I thought of that — afterward.” Jane 
was meekness itself. “ You couldn’t have helped 
liking that nice silvery-haired, tottery old gentle- 
man, though. When he took out his watch and 
said, ‘ Dear me, dear me, I shall be late,’ all I could 
think of was the White Rabbit in 4 Alice in Won- 
derland.’ And — and I felt a little bit like Alice 
myself.” 

“ Who’s talking about the White Rabbit?” de- 
manded Judy from the next room, and that young 
person herself appeared a second later. “ Oh, 
mother, I want to get into bed with you, too. 

105 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

Jane, you look just like ‘ Medusa of the snaky 
locks.’ ” 

An indignant voice answered her as Kenneth 
strolled in from the hall, fully dressed. “ She 
isn’t a Gorrygon,” he declared firmly. “ If she’s 
anything except just our Jane she’s a princess. 
But, I say, you people are lazy. I’ve got my hens 
all fed, and I’ve been in to see whether Don is real 
or just a dream.” 

“And which is he?” questioned Jane, with such 
well-simulated anxiety in her voice that before he 
thought, Kenneth found himself answering her 
seriously. 

“Oh, I know you’re just kidding me,” he added 
hastily. “ Anyway, this clock has stopped, and I 
bet there isn’t more than a half an hour for you 
all to get ready for breakfast.” 

“ Skip then, and tell Susan not to be too much 
in a hurry,” said Mrs. Stuart. “ Fortunately, we 
can all use the same half hour, though you don’t 
seem to think so.” 

Between breakfast and church Jane found time 
to tell David and Donald about her experiences. 
After church when she went to her room she 
found a small object enclosed in tissue-paper and 
held on her pincushion by four l^irge black-headed 
pins. 

“It’s Spinksy’s gold-piece that Uncle Stephen 
106 


The Bayberry-Candle Girl 

gave him,” she said to herself with instant con- 
viction as she took off the paper. “ Isn't he an 
old dear ? ” 

Without waiting to take off her hat she marched 
into her brother's room and found him already 
deeply absorbed in a book. 

“ Spinksy, you’re a perfect gentleman,” she be- 
gan gratefully. 

“ Mrs. Janes, I'm busy reading and it's rude to 
interrupt me,” he answered without lifting his 
eyes, but Jane could see that he looked exceed- 
ingly conscious. 

“ I believe that book is upside-down,” she cried, 
swooping down on him so suddenly that he had 
no time to change it. 

“ You were too quick for me,” he growled. 
“ I'd just got back here when I heard you com- 
ing.” 

“ Well, I love you for thinking of it, but I 
couldn't pos-sib-ly take your gold-piece,” said his 
twin firmly. “ I'll leave it here on the bureau.” 

“Oh, why?” said David in his most wheedle- 
some way, catching her by the wrists, and pre- 
venting her from putting down the gold-piece. 
“ I'm your little twin brother, and you ought to 
give up to me sometimes. Mother says so.” 

“ I know it,” laughed Jane, “ but, you see, this 
isn’t one of the times,” and with a sudden lunge 
107 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

she skilfully managed to drop the gold-piece into 
his pocket. “ Thank you, just the same, Mr. 
Spinksy Stuart, but you can’t take my punish- 
ments for me the way mother says you used to 
want to.” 

“ Well,” David relinquished his idea with re- 
luctance, “ I wish you’d let me. Perhaps the 
purse will be found.” 

“ Never.” Jane shut her lips firmly on the 
word. “ Rob thinks it will, but I’m sure it won’t. 
Anyway, I’m going to try not to worry about it. 
Good-bye. You’ll know more if you read with 
your book right-side up.” 

With which impertinent remark Jane went 
in the direction of her own room, onty to meet 
Donald wandering about in the hall and looking 
as if he were trying to get up courage to knock on 
her door. 

“ Hello, Jane,” he said with an air of embarrass- 
ment. “ I’ve been trying to find you. Or, at 
least, I tried to find Cousin Elizabeth first, but 
she’s busy with some one down-stairs. Say, Jane, 
I wanted to ask you — I mean I was going to ask 
your mother — if — if you wouldn’t let me make up 
that money you lost. 

“ Oh, wait a minute. Don’t say no. You see, 
grandmother and grandfather are awfully gener- 
ous to me, and if I tried a million years I never 
108 


The Bayberry-Candle Girl 

could begin to do for this family what they’ve 
done for me, and — oh, please take it.” He was 
holding out a bill as he finished ; a bill so crisply 
clean and pretty that in itself it was a temptation. 

Jane was conscious of a sudden keen desire to 
take the money and have done with it. She could 
quite understand that it would be a pleasure to 
him to give it to her, and that he wouldn’t miss 
it in the least. Then she brushed the idea aside 
with a secret scorn for her own weakness. 

“ Thank you ever so much, but I couldn’t,” she 
said simply. And then with her gay laugh, “ And 
if I could, my ‘ ma wouldn’t let me,’ as Susan 
says. Oh, Don, isn’t it nice you’re going to stay 
with us this winter ? ” 

“ Great.” Donald tucked the money away as he 
spoke, realizing that Jane’s air of finality left him 
no chance for protest. “ It seemed as if I couldn’t 
wait to get here, and now it’s all so natural I feel 
as if everything else had been a dream.” 

“ Do you really think you’re going to like liv- 
ing in this little town better than all the wonder- 
ful things you might have seen if you had gone 
with Aunt Caroline ? ” 

“ Wonders don’t count for so much when all 
your life you’ve wanted a real home, and boys — 
and girls.” Donald was staring out of the hall 
window as though a picture of his lonely child- 
109 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

hood had risen before his eyes. “ It sounds self- 
ish to be so glad to be here when grandmother 
and grandfather have been so perfectly fine to 
me. But I think grandfather understands.” 

“ Every one understands, dear boy,” said Mrs. 
Stuart, coming up to them just then. “ Even 
Aunt Caroline, I’m sure, though she likes to pre- 
tend she doesn’t. And we’re all so glad to have 
you.” 

“ Thank you, Cousin Elizabeth,” answered the 
boy in his quick, affectionate way. Jane, looking 
on, liked to see him put his arm around her 
mother. “ Most boys would get all red and em- 
barrassed,” she said to herself as they separated to 
make ready for dinner. “ It certainly comforts 
me in my affliction to have such a dandy brother 
and cousin,” she thought, as she took off her hat, 
and meditatively pushed and patted her hair into 
place before the mirror. “ Two boys ‘ with but a 
single thought.’ But I couldn’t let ’em, of course.” 

It had been easy enough to plan to ask Mrs. 
Heath to buy the turquoise ring, but when Mon- 
day afternoon came it took all Jane’s courage to 
go over there and propose it. She had secretly 
hoped that Carol would not be at home, but a 
rapturous welcome from that young person floated 
down from up-stairs the moment the front door was 
opened. 


no 


The Bayberry-Candle Girl 

“ Come on up, Lady Jane. I saw you speed- 
ing up the driveway. The expressman has just 
brought that beautiful near-cut-glass bowl, and Fm 
trying to think up a presentation poem.” 

“ Fm no good at rhymes,” protested Jane. “ I 
— I’ve come on an errand, and I want to see your 
mother.” 

“ And not me ? Why, Jane Stuart, I’m shocked. 
Fm coming with you anyway, unless it’s some- 
thing really private.” Carol was leading the way 
to her mother’s room as she talked. 

“ Oh, no ; not at all private. It’s just that I 

want to see — to see ” she hesitated so long that 

Carol opened her mouth to speak, but shut it again 
hastily. “ I’m going to ask your mother if she 
would still like that ring for her niece,” Jane went 
on unhappily. “ I really need the money for 
something else, and — well, I ought not to have 
spent it for that, anyway.” 

“ Janey, you can’t mean that you’re going to 
spoil our nice little twin ring idea. How can you 
when yours was a present from me ? My feelings 
will be dreadfully hurt.” Carol stopped short and 
turned to look at her friend. Then, with one of 
those sudden changes so characteristic of her, her 
mind leaped to a quick appreciation of the situa- 
tion. It was evident that Jane was unhappy ; 
therefore, she must be comforted. “ Of course, 
hi 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

mother will still want it,” she hurried on. “ And 
I was just fooling. I really don’t care a bit. 
Those rings are rather common, anyway.” 

It was such an unexpected ending, and so great 
a relief to Jane’s feelings that she laughed and felt 
happier. “ Carol Heath, you’re a duck ; at this 
moment I think you’re the nicest chum I ever 
had.” 

“ Goodness gracious ! Usually you are such a 
narrow-minded twin thing that you won’t admit 
that any one but David is your chum,” scolded 
Carol. “ Do you really mean that I’m it ? ” 

“ You’re one of them,” Jane began mischiev- 
ously, then, at sight of Carol’s disappointed face, 
would have said something different, but they 
were just entering Mrs. Heath’s room, and the 
lady herself looked up from her reading with a 
smile of welcome. 

This part of the ordeal was not so trying as Jane 
had imagined, for Mrs. Heath seemed pleased to 
have the ring, and after the first moment of sur- 
prise, aided, perhaps, by mysterious signals from 
Carol, made no comment on Jane’s probable sacri- 
fice. 

In her mind Jane said a fond good-bye to the 
blue and silver circlet as it was slipped into a 
drawer near Mrs. Heath. At the same time she 
braced herself with the thought that the five-dol- 
1 1 2 


The Bayberry-Candle Girl 

lar bill she was tightly clutching would get her 
out of a part of her trouble, at least. 

“ Come on now and help me with my poem,” 
urged Carol when the two girls left Mrs. Heath’s 
room. “ I thought I might begin with 

u 1 All is not gold that glitters, 

All is not cut glass that shines/ 

or something like that. It doesn’t sound very 
much like poetry, though, and I can’t think of a 
blessed word except ‘ fritters ’ that will rhyme.” 

“ Ask Esther Strong. She knows heaps of them. 
I’d like to stay, honestly, but I tbld mother I’d 
hurry, and I’ve got to find Spinksy, and see Rob.” 
Jane ran out of the front door as she ended, and 
down the driveway. Half-way to the street she 
turned and waved her hand to Carol still look- 
ing after her. “ Come over,” she called clearly. 

Carol nodded a violent assent, then, as her friend 
disappeared from view, betook herself into the 
house with a very sober face. 

“ You don’t know what it is to be a real, intimate 
chum,” she remarked, gazing straight at the 
newel-post, but seeing instead a gray-eyed, fair- 
haired girl. “ You like me well enough, but you 
like several others just as much, and I want to 
be the— whole thing.” There was a long silence 

113 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

after this candid avowal, during which Carol sat 
on the lowest stair, and thought hard. Finally 
she got up and gave herself a little shake. “ Fm 
certainly fonder of Jane,” she announced decid- 
edly, “ than I ever was of any other girl, but that 
doesn’t seem to count for much. I’m going to see 
Esther. She’s a good old thing, and she’ll help 
me out with my ‘ glittering fritters.’ ” 

When she had given the money to Rob, Jane’s 
peace of mind came back to a great degree, and as 
she had sternly resolved not to worry about the 
heirloom she managed with fair success to keep it 
out of her thoughts. True to her predictions, ad- 
vertisements and inquiries brought no result, and 
after two weeks had gone by, even Rob, who had 
valiantly tried to keep up the courage of his af- 
flicted friend, was forced by her to confess that his 
own faith was gone. 

“ If Aunt Caroline hadn’t been so perfectly an- 
gelic about it I believe it wouldn’t hurt me so 
much to think I’ve lost it,” Jane said one afternoon 
when she had come down-stairs to find Rob wait- 
ing on the piazza for David and Donald. “I try 
not to worry, but I can’t help dreaming about it 
every little while. And almost always that girl I 
met at the concert is in the dream, and when I run 
to catch her she’s lost or I wake up. I wish you 
and Spinksy could know her, Rob. She’s older 

1 14 


The Bayberry-Candle Girl 

than we are, of course, but that doesn’t make any 
difference.” 

“ Bring her on. I’ll be willing to meet her any 
old time,” conceded Rob generously. “ * To know 
me is to love me,’ or something like that.” 

“ Conceited thing ! You talk as if she was some- 
thing to eat — on a platter. I can’t 4 bring her on.’ 
I only wish I could. What are you boys going to 
do this afternoon ? ” 

“ We are going over to the House in the Woods. 
We’re thinking of naming it that after one of the 
palaces of the Queen of Holland. I’d say it for you 
in Dutch, but you wouldn’t understand it, of course.” 

“Just listen to him,” murmured Jane, clasping 
her hands in pretended admiration. “ Does it ever 
hurt to know so much, Rob? ” 

“ Say, Mrs. Janes, mother thinks you can tell 
where her scissors are. The pair she lets us cut 
paper with.” David and Donald came out on the 
piazza at this moment with several interesting- 
looking packages in their hands. 

“ I’ll get them. I forgot to return ’em the last 
time.” Jane slipped away and was back in a mo- 
ment. “ What are you going to do over at the 
little house, Spinksy ? ” she asked pleadingly. “ I 
think you might let some of us girls go over and 
look on. I promise not to make fun of you, or 
say a single word if you don’t want me to.” 

“5 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

44 Why don’t you let her come ? ” seconded Don- 
ald. “ I’ll take care of her and see that she 
doesn’t get into any mischief.” 

“ Good gracious, hear the boy talk ! ” exclaimed 
Jane, gazing with pretended awe at her tall cousin, 
who had already begun to seem to the twins like a 
nice older brother. “ Thank you very much, Mr. 
Donald Lee. I wouldn’t come now, anyway ; and 
I haven’t the slightest interest in your 4 House in 
the Woods.’ ” She walked toward the other end 
of the piazza with a little toss of the head, and an 
expression which she tried to make disdainful. 

44 Now, now, Mrs. Janes,” David coaxed, catch- 
ing her by the arm as she passed him, and smooth- 
ing her as if she were a wrathful kitten. 44 The 
boys will think you really mean it if you’re not 
careful. Just wait till next week.” 

44 Oh, are you going to have your house-warm- 
ing next week ? ” Jane forgot all pretense of in- 
difference in her ardent enthusiasm. 44 How per- 
fectly fine ! Run along, then, and get things 
ready. I’ll forgive you for not wanting me this 
afternoon.” 

44 It’s wonderful what a good disposition the 
child has,” chuckled Rob as the boys left the 
piazza, but even this irritating remark failed to 
disturb the serenity of the young person in ques- 
tion, who loved the Friday night parties which the 
n6 


The Bayberry-Candle Girl 

Belhaven young people gave, and rejoiced in the 
prospect of one so near at hand. 

Jane looked after the three boys as they walked 
away. “ Don is going to fit right in with the 
other boys, and he looks like a different being even 
in two weeks,” she said aloud as they turned a 
corner and disappeared from her sight. 

“ Which only proves, doesn’t it, that young 
people need young people, and natural amuse- 
ments, ” responded mother’s voice, so surprisingly 
near that Jane was really startled. 

“ Mumsey, how you frightened me ! But that 
was just what I was thinking. I don’t wonder 
poor Don hated living at hotels, and never having 
any real fun. I’m awfully sorry for any one who 
doesn’t know a lot of girls and boys.” 

“ You’re never going to be troubled that way, 
are you, Janey ? ” responded mother, thinking 
meanwhile in her inmost heart that it was small 
wonder this daughter of hers with the sunshiny 
locks and the engaging smile should be so popular 
with her companions. 

“ Never ! Never so long as I can hunt up even 
one other person to have fun with me,” declared 
Jane with fervor. “ Talking about it makes me 
want to see a girl right away. Let me see. Carol’s 
gone to the city with her mother. Serena and 
Peggy are going to embroider and I don’t want to 
ii 7 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

sit still even with them. Polly — oh, mother, may 
I go to Polly’s house? It’s almost their last day 
on the hill, and I shall miss it so.” 

“ Run along then, but start in good season for 
home, because it begins to get dark early.” 

“ We can hardly see the lines,” Polly said doubt- 
fully as they were tightening the net a half hour 
later. “ We’re going so soon that father thought 
it wasn’t worth while to have the court marked 
out again.” 

“ We can guess at it.” Jane had turned away for 
a moment and was gazing oceanward. “ Who’s 
that on the beach, Polly? Is it — is it that girl 
from the bayberry-candle house ? ” 

“ Uh-huh.” Polly seized her racquet and tried 
a back-handed stroke across the net. “ That’s the 
old lady she lives with, and they go down to the 
beach almost every day. Her guardian came to 
see father about two weeks ago.” 

“ Probably that was the man we saw. Has Dr. 
Reed met her, and has he told you about her ? ” 

“ Yes, he’s been to see her, but father never tells 
us about his patients. He did say that he tried to 
get her to let me call. I guess he thought my 
lovely nature would have a good effect on her,” 
said Polly absurdly. “ But she doesn’t want to 
know any one.” 

“ Well, we can get along without her,” Jane de~ 
118 


The Bayberry-Candle Girl 

dared, prejudiced at once against a girl who could 
feel that way. “ Come on, Pollykins.” 

Having arrived late there was time for only one 
fiercely fought set, which Jane won by the skin of 
her teeth, as she expressed it. 

“ Don’t go ; you’ve only just come,” pleaded 
Polly, as her friend put on her coat preparatory to 
making a dash down the winding hill in the gath- 
ering dusk. “ Stay for supper, and Daddy will 
take you down when he goes to make his evening 
calls.” 

“ I’d love to, but mother would worry. I must 
fly, for it’s getting shadier every minute.” 

There was a certain sense of adventure in the 
air Jane felt as she ran lightly down the narrow 
path which she had trodden so many times during 
the summer. Always before this there had been 
so many with her that she had found small chance 
to think of anything but their gay, good-natured 
banter, but now she was strongly conscious of the 
stillness, the enveloping dusk, and the keen, salty 
breath of the ocean. It was not yet dark, but the 
lingering glow of the sunset made even the trees 
and bushes seem huge, unfamiliar things as she 
came upon them around the sudden curves of the 
path. 

All at once she realized that she was nearing the 
place where the path from the “ deep woods ” met 
119 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

the hill-path. “ Good ! Now perhaps I shall meet 
Spinksy,” she said to herself with a little feeling 
of relief. There was nothing to be afraid of, she 
knew. It was only that she was not used to being 
alone, and there was a strangeness about it which 
kept her from thinking of pleasanter things. 

Not even the faintest murmur of boyish voices 
broke the silence as Jane stopped for an instant to 
listen, but before she could start on again, there 
was a low whimpering cry from the bushes, a sud- 
den rush of tiny feet, and she stooped to pick up 
a mite of a dog shivering in the keen autumn air, 
and trying to caress this newly-found friend with 
his pink tongue. 

Jane tucked the small trembling creature under 
her coat and felt all at once completely at ease 
again. “ If you’re a little bit scary about being 
alone it makes you feel all right to have some- 
thing to take care of,” she meditated, uncon- 
sciously discovering for herself a great truth. 
“ You poor little thing, did you think you were 
lost, and are you frightened to death ? ” 

The dog snuggled closer as though he under- 
stood the friendly words, and wanted to say that 
he was no longer afraid, and Jane stepped off quite 
gayly now, hardly conscious of the deepening twi- 
light and the fact that she was alone. When she 
came within sight of the bayberry-candle house 


The Bayberry-Candle Girl 

she began to feel as if she were nearly home. She 
was just assuring the small snuggling creature that 
very soon he should have a saucer of bread and 
milk, when the door of the house opened, a stream 
of light faintly illumined the path to the gate, and 
Jane saw the advancing figure of the girl whom 
she had noticed before. 

She halted an instant involuntarily, then walked 
on hastily, hoping to pass before the girl reached 
the end of the path. Suddenly a breathless 
question flung after her made her stop and turn 
toward the speaker. 

“ Have you — have you seen a ” the other 

girl began in a queer, ungracious manner, and at 
the sound of her voice there was a convulsive 
wriggle, a sharp, anxious bark which made Jane 
uncover the little squirming dog and put him 
gently on the ground. 

“ So you had him ; you were going to take him 
away ! I might never have found him again ! ” 
exclaimed the newcomer, snatching the little crea- 
ture from the ground and hugging him fiercely. 
“ How could you take away the only thing that 
loves me ! ” 

Jane, battling with her rising indignation, hardly 
knew what to say. It was sufficiently a blow to 
her pride to be suspected of doing anything under- 
hand, but to be reproached for cruelty in almost 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

die same breath was an added insult. Her first 
impulse was to turn and walk away without a 
word, but some deeper feeling kept her there. 
Underneath everything she was realizing that she 
had never come in contact with any one like this 
before : this girl whose pale, sharp-featured face 
looked out from a cloud of dark hair; whose 
somber, distrustful eyes seemed only windows for 
the unhappy soul within. 

“ rm sorry you thought he was lost,” Jane said 
with unusual gentleness. “ He was sure of it, and 
he was awfully glad to see me. I was going to 
take him to my house and then try to find out 
where he lived.” It was hard work to make an 
explanation which she knew to be so unneces- 
sary, but something stronger than she compelled 
her. 

“ Oh,” said the other girl without lifting her 
eyes from the small black head she was caressing. 
Then with a listless air, half apologetic, half indif- 
ferent, “ Thank you very much for taking care of 
him.” 

“ You’re quite welcome,” Jane responded, hoping 
that her words sounded as frostily polite as she 
meant them to be. She turned to go, but looked, 
back involuntarily at the sound of a voice to see 
the old lady of the purple satin gown coming down 
the path. She was carrying a candle protected by 
122 


The Bayberry-Candle Girl 

a shade, and holding it so that it showed her 
plainly, but kept her from seeing anything her- 
self. 

“ My dear, my dear Mary, where are you ? ” she 
questioned cheerfully. “ I woke from my nap 
just in time to see you rush out of the house, and 
I tried to get up, but that blessed kitten had wound 
me up in my knittin’-work so’s I couldn’t stir a 
step. That little industrious thing must have been 
travelin’ round my chair for a full half hour. I 
hated to break my wool, and then after I did get 
free it took me ages to find a light I could bring 
outdoors. But here I am — that is, where am I 
and where are you ? ” 

By this time the breathless old lady, holding the 
candle directly in front of her eyes, and completely 
blinded by its light, had talked herself quite out 
of the path and into the damp grass. 

“ Why, child, you shouldn’t be out here in this 
wet grass,” she cried, waving her candle around 
wildly and for a brief instant getting the two girls 
into focus. “ Oh, there you are, aren’t you, and 
I’m the one that’s in the wet grass.” She said 
this last with a funny chuckling laugh which made 
Jane smile in spite of herself. 

“ Strange,” she continued, stepping cautiously 
toward them, “just for a minute, Mary, I saw 
double. I thought there were two of you. Now 
123 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

do tell me what made you run out of the house 
like that.” 

“ I’d just found out that Peter was lost,” answered 
Mary briefly. “ And, Brownie, if you only won’t 
put out your own eyes with that candle you’ll see 
that there are two of us.” There was a note of 
kindness in her voice, and in the way she took the 
old lady’s arm to guide her to the path, which 
made her seem to Jane a little more endurable. 

“ Why, of course.” The little old lady wel- 
comed the extinguishing of the candle with a sigh 
of relief. “ It isn’t so very dark, is it ? When I 
woke I thought it was the middle of the night. 
Oh, this is the nice girl I told you about, Mary. 
Won’t you come in? We’re so glad to have 
you call.” She said the last with an appealing 
glance at the girl she called Mary, as though beg- 
ging her sanction for the welcome. 

“ Thank you very much.” Jane felt that the old 
lady’s shy courtesy demanded her politest manner 
in return. “ You see I just happened to find the 
dog. I must hurry home now because my mother 
will be anxious about me. Good-night.” She 
couldn’t help giving the old lady one of her 
cordial smiles, but she tried not to look into the 
girl’s mournful eyes again. 

“ I don’t care what’s happened to her, she 
needn’t be so — so horrid,” she was thinking as she 
124 


The Bayberry-Candle Girl 

hurried away. She wouldn’t allow herself to 
glance back, though she had the curious feeling 
that there might be a procession of interesting 
people coming down the path from the doorway 
of the bayberry-candle house. 

Half-way home she encountered Donald evi- 
dently on the lookout for her. “ Hello, little 
Cousin Jane. I said I’d come and meet you while 
David went for the mail,” he explained. “ And. 
then we can all have supper, for which I’m thank- 
ful. It makes me perfectly ravenous to be out in 
this air, and fooling around with the other fel- 
lows.” 

Something in the hearty, youthful manner, in 
the glad atmosphere of the boy stirred Jane’s 
memory. Not so many months ago he had been 
unhappy, and had looked at the world with 
strange, sorrowful eyes. 

“ Do you think, Don,” she asked suddenly, 
“ that if you have a house, and a perfectly darling 
dog, and a little plump, pink-and-white grand- 
mother all tied up in her knitting, that even if 
you are unhappy you have a right to be rude and 
suspicious and — and generally hateful ? ” 

“ What under the sun, Jane Stuart,” began 
Donald, stopping in the middle of the street to 
look at her searchingly. “ I never heard of pink- 
and-white grandmothers tied up in their knitting. 

125 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

Ifc ought to be stopped if any one’s doing it to his 
grandmother. And I’m not rude and suspicious. 
Come in and eat your supper, girl, and you’ll feel 
better.” 

Jane’s laugh rang out as they went up the steps 
and into the house. “ Foolish ! You know I 
didn’t mean you. Of course it might not have 
been her grandmother. After all why should she 
call her grandmother 1 Brownie ’ ? Perhaps it 
was her aunt.” 

Donald’s hand closed over his cousin’s wrist 
and drew her forcibly into the library, where her 
mother was sitting. 

“ Cousin Elizabeth, will you please attend to 
your daughter ? ” he said in pretended alarm. “ I 
think she’s delirious. Anyway, she’s going on at 
a great rate about pink grandmothers and brown 
aunts, and I don’t know how to stop her. Next 
thing I’ll be a green cousin.” 

“ Mother,” began Jane, stopping to giggle over 
Donald’s absurdity, “ mother, when you see me 
getting desperately curious over any one again 
just say bay berry-candle girl, will you? I’ve met 
her for the first time, and I certainly hope it will 
be the last.” 


126 


CHAPTER VII 


A HOUSE-WARMING 

The invitations for the house-warming were out 
for Saturday, and during the week a good times 
atmosphere pervaded everything. Even Carol, 
who took school and lessons as a sort of penance, 
and secretly wondered how long she was going to 
be able to stand the dreadful regularity of her 
days, quite forgot to grumble, and surprised her- 
self by getting the best weekly average she had so 
far achieved. This put her in such good humor 
that when she came out of school on Friday she 
felt in gracious mood toward even Rita Hastings 
and her set, and was entertaining a group of them 
when Jane Stuart ran down the school steps. 

The listening girls were all laughing, and Jane 
hurried toward them, expecting to join in the fun. 
Carol, seeing her, finished her story abruptly, and 
with a gay good-bye to the others, steered her 
friend away from them and toward home. 

“ What were you telling them ? ” demanded 
Jane with some curiosity. She had caught the 
words “ kidnap,” “ policemen,” “ blind,” and the 
127 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

story sounded interesting. “ Those girls seemed 
to think it was the funniest ever.” 

“ Oh, only some of my nonsense,” Carol an- 
swered quickly. “ I love to tell things to those 
girls. They’ll take in anything. Now you and — 
and David don’t believe more than half I say, any- 
way.” 

“ Why, yes, we do — that is we did at first. And 

we have to laugh at your stories, but ” Jane 

waited so long that her friend grew impatient. 

“ But what? ” she questioned sharply. 

“ Well, we’d get lots more fun out of them if we 
ever could know when you’re telling the truth,” 
admitted Jane with despairing bluntness. 

“ Oh, pooh, aren’t they just as funny whether 
they’re true or not? I never pretended that I 
don’t dress them up sometimes. Let’s not talk 
about me any longer. You’ve hurt my feelings 
terribly, Jane Stuart.” 

“ Poor little Carol ! I won’t any more, but you 
really dragged it out of me, you know. What are 
you going to do this afternoon ? ” 

“ Get my lessons for Monday. Now that’s some- 
thing I shouldn’t expect you to believe, but I 
really am.” Carol had changed in a second from 
pathos to sparkling good-humor. “ I got the best 
average this week that I’ve had at all, and I’m go- 
ing to try to keep it up. If you’d only work as 
128 


A House-Warming 

hard as I do, Lady Jane, you might accomplish 
something.” 

“ I believe I'll try,” murmured Jane, quite as if 
she had never thought about it before, and then 
they both laughed and peace was fully restored. 

“ Mercy, gaze on those boys,” Carol said, as both 
girls paused in front of the Stuart house just in 
time to see David and Donald rush out of the barn, 
closely followed by Kenneth and Rags. “ You’d 
think something wonderful was going to happen, 
wouldn’t you ? ” 

“ Spinksy’s getting dreadfully independent of 
me,” remarked Jane, following the boys with her 
eyes as they dashed across the street, vaulted the 
fence into a vacant lot and finally disappeared 
from view. “ It’s hardly worth while being a twin 
nowadays. I wouldn’t change, though, if I could,” 
she added hastily. 

“ I believe you. Well, good-bye, Lady Jane. 
Going up to Polly’s to-morrow morning? ” 

“ Don’t see how I can. I’ve got a lot to do be- 
fore the party — that is, there’s always a great deal 
to do on Saturday mornings.” 

Jane congratulated herself as she went into the 
house because she had changed that last remark so 
neatly. Rob Randall had asked her not to men- 
tion to the other girls that he had begged her to 
make some cake for the house-warming. “ Like 
129 


/ 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

those ripping cakes you brought over to the boys a 
few weeks ago/’ he had said. She had felt secretly 
much complimented when he added that he 
shouldn’t ask any of the other girls, but the fel- 
lows needed a little help, and her cakes were such 
superfine, prize-package affairs. 

She hung her hat and coat in the coat-closet un- 
der the stairs, and started to find mother, but a tap 
on the window beside the front door made her 
turn suddenly to see Rob’s face peering through 
the glass. 

“ I saw you and Carol go by, so I came over with 
these,” he began, holding out a berry-basket full of 
eggs as Jane opened the door. “ My hens said it 
was pretty cheeky of me to ask you to make that 
cake, but they thought they could help out a lit- 
tle. The speckled hen felt particularly anxious, so 
she sent two.” 

Jane laughed as Rob pointed out the two top- 
most eggs on which was written, “ Kindest regards 
of Mrs. Speckle.” 

“ Robert Randall, you’re still harping on that 
old joke. Why don’t you get a new one ? ” she 
said with scorn. “ I’m very much obliged for the 
eggs, though. I was wondering if I could coax 
Ken into letting me have some.” 

Rob started out of the door, but turned back 
again. “ Perhaps I have a new joke on you,” he 
130 


A House-Warming 

ventured, looking as if he were not quite sure, but 
couldn’t resist stirring her curiosity a little. “ Per- 
haps I have — and then again, perhaps I haven’t,” 
he finished provokingly and was out of the door 
and down the path before Jane could stop him. 

“ You wretched boy, I think you might tell me 
what you mean,” she called after him pleadingly, 
but she was talking to empty air, for by this time 
he had crossed the street and was vaulting the 
fence as the others had done. 

“ I’ve a great mind to go over and ask Mrs. 
Speckle,” Jane threatened with a giggle. “ Any- 
way I’m glad I’ve got the eggs, and I’ll take ’em 
out to Susan right now.” 

She reached the kitchen at an exciting moment, 
for Miss Trot was just running to open the back 
door for Judy, who was coming in from the barn, 
crying at the top of her lungs and holding a cut 
hand so that the blood should not drip on her 
dress. With her came Mr. Chope, hovering about 
like a distracted old father bird, with his brown 
face screwed into distressful wrinkles. 

Jane put down the eggs and flew to her sister. 
“ Oh, Judy! Oh, your poor hand! I’ll get 
mother, and she’ll fix it for you.” 

“ Mother isn’t at home,” wailed Judy. “ I want 
Susan. She knows how.” 

“ I’m coming, honey,” Miss Trot called from the 

131 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

depths of the closet, and an instant later she was 
at Judy’s side with some absorbent cotton and a 
neatly rolled bandage. 

Jane and Mr. Chope watched while Susan bathed 
and worked over the afflicted hand with quick 
gentleness. Even Judy choked back her sobs and 
looked on with an air of modest pride when the 
bandage was skilfully adjusted. 

Mr. Chope, who quite unnoticed by the others 
had been making up a most astounding variety of 
faces expressive of his sympathy and distress, drew 
a deep breath of relief when the end of the bandage 
was fastened by Susan’s capable fingers. 

“ Wal, now,” he began admiringly, “wal, now, 
that is a hand, ain’t it? You won’t touch that 
hateful old knife of mine agin, will you ? It ain’t 
meant for little delikit fingers like yourn.” 

“ No-o,” sighed Judy, looking as if a fresh burst 
of weeping were imminent. “ I won’t.” 

“Come on up-stairs,” Jane proposed. “I’ll let 
you use some of my paints if you like. I’ll — I’ll 
play a game with you.” Which last offer was the 
height of heroism from Jane’s point of view as 
Judy well knew. 

“No,” Judy responded with surprising resolu- 
tion. “ I’m getting too old to be a baby any more. 
I’ll use your paints and play the game with you 
some other time, but now I’m going out into the 
132 


A House-Warming 

yard again. Marcia Holt is there, and we were 
having a perfectly fascinating time until I cut 
myself.” 

Jane lingered after Judy had gone out-of-doors. 
“You did that just beautifully, Susan/’ she said 
with warm admiration in her tone. “ Where did 
you learn how ? ” 

“ Oh, I haven’t watched doctors for nothin’. 
And I love to fuss over people that are hurt or 
sick. I get quite a good deal of practice out of 
Kenneth and Judy, so your ma gave me some cot- 
ton and bandages to keep down here,” explained 
Miss Trot simply. 

“ Why, you do it as well as a trained nurse,” 
Jane went on, her appreciation growing the longer 
she thought about it. 

“ Do you really mean it ? ” Susan Trot’s happy 
excitement made her black eyes sparkle, and 
brought forth the confidence she had been with- 
holding. “ Do you s’pose I could ever be one ? ” 
she finished almost in a whisper. 

“One what? Oh, you mean a nurse. Susan, 
was that what you wouldn’t tell me the other 
day ? ” Jane dropped into a chair by the kitchen 
table, and resting her chin in her hands gazed 
compellingly at the other girl. 

“ Yes,” admitted Susan, the red in her cheeks 
growing brighter. “ Yes, that v/as it. Ever sence 
133 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

that trained nurse was here last spring I’ve wanted 
to be like her. When Donald was so sick that the 
doctor thought he couldn’t anyways get well she’d 
shut her mouth tight and everlastingly fight for 
him. I’d give anythin’ to do that ; jest make 
somebody live when every one thought he 
couldn’t.” 

“ Wouldn’t it be splendid ? ” mused Jane, her 
gray eyes becoming dreamily soft. “ Just imagine 
all the family giving up hope, and then you’d 
bend over the sick person for hours and days ” 

“ Golly, I bet she’d have a crick in her back,” 
put in Kenneth, who was passing through the 
kitchen in search of his mother. 

“ For hours and hours at a time,” reiterated 
Jane, gazing sternly at her younger brother, “ and 
by and by she’d look up at you with a— a trustful 
smile, and then drop off into a sound sleep. After 
that, of course, every one would want Miss Trot 
for a nurse.” Using the funny little name so 
seriously invested it with new dignity for Jane, 
and for the girl listening with such intensity that 
she seemed scarcely to breathe. 

Suddenly she caught her breath quickly, and 
swung away from the table where she had been 
sitting. “ It sounds awful nice,” she said in a 
stifled voice, “ but I never could do it— never.” 

“ Why not, Susan ? Why coqldn’t you learn to 
i34 


A House-Warming 

be a nurse when you’re so splendid about it al- 
ready?” Jane was too much pleased with the 
glowing vision she had evoked to give it up 
lightly. 

“ The nurse that was here said that you had to 
know a lot before you could even begin to train,” 
answered Miss Trot dejectedly. “ I mean that 
you’d have to have more schoolin’ than I’ve had 
or ever can have.” 

“ I’ll teach you all I know,” Jane declared im- 
pulsively. “ I’ve been meaning to tell you so ever 
since we spoke about it before. You know you 
promised to give me some lessons in cooking, and 
it’s only fair for us to exchange.” 

Miss Trot gazed at her with a dawning happi- 
ness in her face. “ We’ll have to ask your ma first 
of all,” she said, coming back to her practical self, 
though the fires of ambition were once more alight 
in the dark eyes. 

“ Of course ; and she’ll help us plan about it. 
Probably mother can find out from Dr. Reed about 
the different hospitals and what you have to 
know.” Jane’s mind leaped ahead of the present 
moment with its usual quickness. “ Anyway, 
let’s begin next week. You can be thinking 
ahead what you will teach me to cook on Satur- 
day morning.” 

As Jane left the room the other girl looked after 
i35 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

her with adoring eyes. “ Everybody has their 
‘ outs,’ ” she said to herself thoughtfully, “ but she 
has lots more 1 ins ’ than most folks. I’d have to 
learn how to make that there ambrosy and neck- 
tie Mr. Chope is always talkin’ about to know any- 
thin’ that’s nice enough to match up to her.” 
Which was certainly a great concession on the part 
of Miss Trot, who never failed to treat Mr. Chope’s 
mythological flights with a scorn she took no pains 
to conceal. 

Jane’s sponge cakes were again a shining suc- 
cess, and she felt a pardonable pride when she 
handed them to Rob Saturday noon. 

“ Now do be careful,” she implored. “ My heart 
would be quite broken if those went flying through 
the air.” 

“ I can’t imagine what you’re hinting at.” Rob 
was grinning broadly over the memory Jane’s 
words had evoked. “ But I’ll handle them as 
though they were spun glass. It’s perfectly dandy 
of you to make ’em. Don’t you — don’t you think 
I ought to sample one before I start, so’s to see if 
they’re up to our standard ? ” 

“ No, I don’t,” Jane answered disappointingly. 
“ Nothing would induce me to unpack those, and 
I haven’t even one left that I could give you.” 

“ All right.” Rob’s face and voice were meekly 
13b 


A House-Warming 

resigned. “ Of coarse I shall eat them for your 
sake, whether they're good or not, but I thought 
the other boys might like to get my opinion before 
they tried anything so risky." 

“ I hate to laugh at you when you're so foolish." 
Jane was trying hard to look severely stern. “ I 
don't see why Spinksy and Don didn’t take these 
cakes over. I saw them go off about a quarter of 
an hour ago, and they didn't have so very much 
to carry." 

“ Oh, they were going to get " began Rob un- 

guardedly, but he stopped suddenly and made such 
a successful pretense of dropping the cakes that 
Jane's heart was in her mouth, and she forgot to 
press the question about her twin. 

“ Well, see you later," Rob said somewhat has- 
tily. “ Oh, by the way, I suppose you know that 
we invited Rita Hastings ? We don't stand for 
the crowd that she goes with now, but we can't 
very well leave her out. You see our mothers 
have known her mother forever, and Rita always 
has been at our parties." 

“ Of course. You needn't apologize to me. I 
get along well enough with her, but I can't say 
I'm fond of her. She and Carol usually manage 
to rub each other the wrong way, though." 

“ We'll try to keep 'em too busy this time," Rob 
remarked philosophically as he started down the 
i37 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

path. “ Be sure to wear thick shoes and bring a 
sweater,” he advised. “ You know this party is 
going to last into the evening.” 

Jane laughed. “ You’re the third boy who’s 
told me that this morning,” she called after him 
gleefully. “ If I get cold it’ll be my own fault.” 

By previous agreement the girls were to meet at 
Jane’s house at three o’clock. Mrs. Stuart, who had 
been urged by the Snowshoe Club to be their per- 
petual chaperone, was going with them this after- 
noon, though she had not yet consented to accept 
permanently this position of honor. Much to 
their own joy Judy and Kenneth were also invited, 
which, as the latter said, made things easier for 
him, because he should have gone anyway. 

Carol arrived first, for a wonder, and almost on 
her heels came the Triad with Rita Hastings ac- 
companying. The latter was in one of her really 
pleasant moods, and even Polly was gurgling with 
laughter over something Rita had been telling. 

“ Mollyolly telephoned that she is sorry to keep 
you waiting, and she and Esther and Marian will 
be along very soon,” Serena explained to Mrs. 
Stuart. 

“ Perhaps Marian can’t find her thick shoes and 
a sweater,” commented Peggy. “ She’s always los- 
ing her belongings, and every boy we’ve seen this 
morning has made us promise to bring warm 
138 


A House-Warming 

things. What do you suppose we’re going to 
do?” 

“ Hunt for the North Pole, probably,” Polly sug- 
gested, and at this Kenneth, who had been un- 
usually shy and quiet, went off into one of his 
mirthful laughs. 

“ O-ho, I should say not,” he remarked with 
the air of one who knows. “ I guess Mr. Chope 
and I haven’t collected ” something in the ea- 

gerness with which the girls all turned toward him 
made him realize what he was doing, and he shut 
his mouth decidedly, and put both hands over it 
as though afraid information would leak out in 
spite of him. 

“ Ken, dear, please let me walk with you,” 
begged Carol, going across the room to him and 
putting on her most coaxing manner. To the joy 
of every one Kenneth dodged wildly, and sought 
the shelter of his mother. 

“ No, you don’t, Carol,” he said firmly. “ I’m 
going to walk with mother. She never teases me 
to tell secrets.” 

“ That’s one on you, Carol,” laughed Jane, start- 
ing out of the room to open the door for Molly 
and the other girls. 

“ You can’t always do what you want, can you, 
little Miss Carol?” remarked Rita in her patron- 
izing way. “ Oh, have you told the girls that per- 
i39 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

fectly lovely adventure you were telling us after 
school yesterday? You know what I mean, when 
you tried to make the man ” 

“ No, I haven't,” Carol interrupted almost rudely, 
looking involuntarily to see if Jane were within 
hearing. “ And, what’s more, I’m not going to 
tell it.” She wheeled about as she ended, and 
crossed the room with the very evident intention 
of avoiding Rita, a move which that young person 
was not slow to comprehend. 

“ Rita will get even with Carol for that,” Polly 
murmured in Serena’s ear, and then all the girls 
clustered around the late arrivals who had just 
come into the room. 

“ It was my fault, of course,” Marian Chester 
was explaining pathetically. “ The boys said I 
couldn’t be admitted if I didn’t bring rubbers, and 
they ’specially wanted me, of course, on account 

of the ” She stopped with a little gasp and 

looked about her, then went on hastily, “ Well, when 
I came to hunt for them, the rubbers, I mean, not 
the boys, I couldn’t find mates, and finally I had 
to come with one tan rubber and one black one, 
and they’re both for the same foot.” 

The gently resigned air with which she finished 
made the girls laugh and forget that she was the 
culprit who had kept them waiting. 

“ Why don’t you have your property tied to 
140 



THEY CROSSED THE NARROW BRIDGE 







* 













A House-Warming 

you ? ” remarked Molly Oliver, who as Marian's 
next door neighbor had frequent experiences of 
this kind. “ It's too bad we've made you and the 
girls late, Mrs. Stuart." 

“ If we walk fast now we shall be there in time." 
Mrs. Stuart led the way as she spoke, and the others 
trooped after her. Kenneth, as the only man in 
the party, took the head of the straggling column, 
and led the chattering, laughing girls with an im- 
pressive dignity which they forbore to remark 
upon. 

It was one of those October afternoons which 
seem still to be held in summer's regretful clasp. 
As they crossed the narrow bridge and entered the 
wood path which led directly to the little house, 
the sunshine peered between the trees, and fell in 
a shower of gold in the clear spaces. The oak- 
trees were aglow with somber fire ; the evergreens 
wore myriad shades of green and brown. In the 
near distance the windows of the little house, 
touched by the sunlight, glittered like diamonds. 

“There's Davy," shrieked Judy, and at the 
sound of her voice David whistled shrilly, and 
several of the other boys came tumbling out of the 
house and ran to meet their approaching guests. 

“ Children, we thought you were never coming," 
said Jack Dexter, taking possession of the zither 
which Serena had been urged to bring. 

141 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Girls are always late,” remarked Stanley 
Oliver, with a suspicious eye on his next door 
neighbor which she tried unsuccessfully to ignore. 

“ Well, you needn’t scold, now we have come. 
And, anyway, if you hadn’t been so particular 

about rubbers ” Molly’s hand extinguished 

the prolonged description which Marian would 
have given had she been allowed. 

“ Thank you for shutting that off, Molly,” Rob 
observed feelingly. “ We’ve all been so busy that 
we haven’t had any lunch, and if I had to wait to 
hear why Marian couldn’t find two rubbers of the 
same kind I wouldn’t answer for the consequences.” 

“ Why, how did you know ? ” began Marian 
wonderingly. 

“ Didn’t know. Just guessed,” Rob responded 
with a satisfied chuckle. “ And now, girls, hustle, 
please, and let your starving little friends have 
a chance at the bounteous lunch they have prepared 
for you.” 

“ Chaperone first, young ladies,” said Jack re- 
provingly, “ and please don’t mind if we ask you 
to use the side door this time.” 

The little room which they were entering was 
so essentially boyish that one would hardly need 
to be told by whom it was planned and arranged. 
Pictures of baseball teams and boat races decorated 
the walls, school-banners added their bright colors, 
142 


A House-Warming 

and from over the door a deer’s head gazed mildly 
down upon the gay young people. Bats and balls, 
tennis racquets, Indian clubs, and snowshoes were 
all suggestive of health, muscular prowess, and 
out-of-door good times. Though the furniture was 
scanty it did not matter, for stout hooks showed 
where a hammock could be swung, and the some- 
what worn-looking couch looked invitingly big 
and comfortable. 

“ What a jolly room,” proclaimed Jane, drawing 
a long breath of satisfaction after her critical in- 
spection. “ All you need is a chair or two, and a 
lot more cushions, and an Indian blanket.” 

“ Why, Jane,” expostulated Mrs. Stuart, smiling 
in spite of herself at her daughter’s absorption, 
“ why, Jane, you forget you’re a guest, and that 
you haven’t been invited to criticize.” 

Jane came to herself with a start and looked 
blankly at her mother for an instant. Then the 
color flew into her cheeks and she tried vainly to 
repress her obstinate dimple. “ I apologize — 
I apologize,” she cried, sweeping her hosts a grand 
bow. “ Spinksy likes to have me criticize and — I 
forgot you weren’t all my brothers.” 

“ Your apology is accepted,” said Jack. 

“ And sofa-pillows will be, too, if any come our 
way,” added Rob. “ We shouldn’t even refuse an 
Indian blanket.” 


M3 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Goodness, do you think we’re made of money?” 
Polly’s voice sounded positively scared. “ I think 
I might be equal to a cushion — but an Indian 
blanket. Glory ! ” 

“ I move we let ’em off on the blanket,” Rob 
conceded magnanimously. “ But say, girls, we 
really think you ought to do something for a 
struggling institution like this.” 

“ Not after what you announced up at Polly’s 
a few weeks ago,”*Peggy declared sharply. “ You 
said this was your house, and we girls weren’t to 
have anything to do about it.” 

“ Except to add 1 destructive touches.’ Wasn’t 
that it, David ? ” Carol always took a malicious 
pleasure in turning the gaze of the assembled 
company on David, who usually let the other 
boys do the talking. 

“ They can do that all right,” put in Stanley 
Oliver, before David could think of a suitable re- 
tort. “ Girls are ” 

“ That’s enough, son.” Jack Dexter suppressed 
further remarks with a muzzling arm around the 
last speaker’s neck. 

“ Good gracious, Stan, what do you think 
you’re doing?” added Rob in an alarmed voice. 
“ Don’t you know you ought not to irritate our 
guests when there’s nine of them to only six of 
us — not counting the chaperone.” 

144 


A House-Warming 

“ Dear me I Why didn’t three of us have the 
strength of mind to refuse ?” said Molly Oliver. 
“ I call for volunteers to go home.” 

“ Just hear them struggle for first place,” David 
murmured, when a dead silence followed Molly’s 
words. 

“ Of course, we don’t want to go home,” Jane 
cried impetuously. “ Nothing could hire me. 
I’m pining to see more of this cute little house, 
and I’m as hungry as Rob said he was, and — why, 
where are Donald and Ned Holt? ” 

“ Have you just missed us? ” inquired Donald 
himself reproachfully. He had opened the door 
from the next room, quite unnoticed by Jane, just 
as she began to speak. “ Ned and I have been 
putting on the finishing touches. And supper is 
all ready. Cousin Elizabeth, will you come, 
please?” Donald crossed the room and offered 
his arm to Mrs. Stuart with an unconscious grace 
of manner which made some of the other boys 
stare.- Stanley Oliver looked after him with a 
little frown. He had not yet decided whether he 
wholly approved of this newest member of the 
Snowshoe Club, who appeared to take school and 
boyish fun as special privileges, and actually 
seemed to like his teachers. Which last, from 
Stanley’s point of view, was enough to put any 
boy under suspicion of being too good to be true. 
i45 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ All the girls please shut their eyes until I 
count three,” said Rob Randall, seized with a 
sudden inspiration just as Mrs. Stuart was enter- 
ing the next room. “ Now, one — Carol, you’re 
peeking ; I can see your eyes shine. Two — please 
excuse the gentleman guests invited by the club 
if they don’t rise from their chairs. Three-e.” 

With one impulse the girls opened their eyes 
and looked straight at the long table standing in 
the center of the big room. There was an instant 
of astonished silence. Then a burst of delighted 
laughter that made the glasses on the table ring 
in response. 


146 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE SNOWSHOE SISTERS 

At any other time the girls would have been 
quick to exclaim over the fireplace, capacious 
enough for small logs, at the bookshelves, already 
holding some of the books young people love, over 
the small tables where magazines and games 
promised entertainment. For the first moment, 
however, they could see nothing but the four 
gentlemanly figures which sat, two on each side 
of the long table, waiting with supreme patience 
for the arrival of the other guests. The boys had 
done their best to make them realistic instead of 
wholly grotesque, and there was something so un- 
cannily lifelike about them that for an instant the 
girls hovered about the doorway without ventur- 
ing nearer. 

Then Jane made a dart for the nearest one, only 
to be headed off by Rob, who was waiting for a 
chance to speak. “Just a minute, Lady Jane,” 
he said reprovingly. “ You must wait to be in- 
troduced before you interview strangers too rashly. 

“ You see/’ he explained, “ we know that host- 
147 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

esses are always particular to have their tables 
properly balanced. So, as the Snowshoe Club is a 
little shy on boys just now, and we didn’t particu- 
larly want to invite any real boys until we had 
decided on some new members, why — why, we 
just had to manufacture some.” The speaker 
looked upon the assembled company with his 
pleasant twinkling smile, and then gazed with 
pardonable pride at the masterpieces which he 
had helped to construct. 

“ We will now introduce the gentlemen to the 
ladies whose escorts they are to be,” began Ned 
Holt in the most ceremonious manner he could 
assume. “ Miss Strong, may I present to you Mr. 
Byron Dryden Pope, whose beautiful poems you 
have probably read over and over.” 

Esther, amiable as ever, and quite used to being 
the butt of good-natured fun, looked from one 
curious figure to another with a puzzled expression 
in her short-sighted eyes. At last her gaze rested 
on the thin, dark-haired youth nearest her. His 
hair rolled back in waves' from an extremely high 
forehead, and his dark eyes had an upward, soul- 
ful glance. “ I see my fate,” she said with a 
laugh. “ I’ll go and commune with him.” 

“ Hurrah for Esther. She hit it right the first 
time ; which is a great compliment to us, hey, 
k^s?” said David, rushing to straighten Mr. B. 

148 


The Snowshoe Sisters 


Dryden Pope, who, now that he was discovered, 
showed an alarming tendency to lop over on the 
table. 

“ Miss Heath, allow me to present Mr. Claude 
Algernon Montmorency, one of the 1 Four Hun- 
dred/ ” said Donald Lee. “ He begs you to excuse 
him for not rising. He is made to sit.” 

Carol’s pout and her bubbling laugh came 
almost at the same minute. “ I never could 
endure a man with a monocle, but I suppose I’ll 
have to be polite and take him,” she protested, 
walking with unerring judgment straight to the 
figure in a dress-suit and immaculate shirt-front. 
“ I thought it wasn’t proper, though, for gentlemen 
to appear in evening-dress until after six o’clock,” 
she added slyly. 

“ You’re too particular,” scolded David. “ That 
was the only suit we could beg that would abso- 
lutely show that he is a shining member of high 
society.” 

“ Miss Mollyolly Oliver,” began Jack, turning 
with a wave of the hand to one of the two remain- 
ing figures, a young man whose rather wobbly- 
looking arm-muscles stuck out conspicuously, 
“ permit me to introduce Discus Sprint Vaulter 
who holds the international record in several 
sports.” 

Molly sat down on the nearest chair and laughed 
149 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

immoderately, while the athlete, assisted by David, 
shakily raised one knobby arm and searched the 
air for her hand. 

“ Come on, Molly,” urged David. “ He’d say, 
‘ Put it there,’ only he lost his voice at the last 
track-meet. He’s heard about how smart you are at 
tennis and basket-ball, and he wants to meet you.” 

“ The one that’s left is the realest one of all,” 
said Jane, as Molly went to sit beside her cavalier. 
The afternoon light had faded perceptibly by now, 
and, as Jane said, the figure at the far end of the 
table was astonishingly lifelike. “ I hope I get 
him.” 

“ Jane,” said Rob, putting on a frown, and 
stifling a laugh at the same moment, “ Jane, you’re 
too grasping. In spite of — of your selfishness, 
though, I’m forced to admit that this gentleman 
with the carefully disarranged hair and the float- 
ing necktie ” Rob hesitated so long and grew 

so red in the face that Jane looked at him in 
amazement, and in her absorption failed to see 
that Ned was apparently leaning on Jack’s shoulder, 
that Donald had turned his back, and that David 
and Kenneth were shaking with noiseless laughter. 

“ This gentleman,” began Rob again, recovering 
his self-control by a mighty effort, and talking as 
fast as he could, “ is the artist you’ve been looking 
for. Miss Jane Stuart, may I introduce Rembrandt 
150 


The Snowshoe Sisters 


Rubens Van Dyck. He is anxious to talk about 
pictures with you.” 

“ Mr. Van Dyck, I’m just charmed to meet you.” 
Jane advanced with outstretched hand and her 
most confident smile. To her and David dressing- 
up was second-nature, and it was a perfect joy to 
carry on this game of the imagination which the 
boys had begun. 

“You paint so wonderfully,” she continued, 
assuming, to the delight of her twin, her grandest 
manner. “ I am more than pleased to have the 
chance to tell you ” — Jane hesitated, and in- 
voluntarily took a step backward. Had the stiff- 
looking figure with its painted face and tumbled 
wig really swayed a little in its chair, or was it 
only a trick of her eyes ? — “ to tell you how much 
I have enjoyed your pictures,” she finished with 
less assurance. 

Then in sudden panic and with a little startled 
cry she backed away from the table, looking so 
pale that David’s laughter stopped at once, and he 
edged up to her and patted her shoulder comfort- 
ingly. “ It’s — it’s alive,” she murmured, and then 
her voice died in her throat as with fascinated gaze 
she watched Mr. Rembrandt Rubens Van Dyck 
rise from his chair unaided, and cast from his 
closely cropped fair hair the untidy wig. The paint 
w T hich accentuated his own ruddy coloring made 

151 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

the earnestness of his expression and manner 
almost ludicrous, yet no one felt inclined to laugh 
at him when impetuous speech poured forth. 

“ Miss Jane Stuart, and — and the other ladies, 
will you please to forgif me,” he said so penitently 
that all the girls forgave him at once, though no 
one knew for what. “ I should not haf let these 
mischievous boys persuade me to play a trick on 
you. I did not dream that any one would be 
startled.” 

“Mrs. Stuart, this is Mr. Prescott, and it’s not 
his fault at all,” apologized Rob. “ He came to see 
father about — well, on business, and I asked him 
to come to our party. We were going to have 
four dummies, but David hit upon this, and we all 
thought it was such a lark that we wouldn’t let 
Mr. Prescott say no.” 

“ Spinksy ! ” cried Jane with an emphasis 
which meant getting even as soon as possible. 
The color had come back to her cheeks and her 
eyes were sparkling. “ Anyway, I think it was an 
awfully good joke on me. I was so sure I was play- 
ing up to you in my best manner, and I couldn’t 
understand ” — Jane’s mirthful laugh interrupted 
her in the middle of a sentence — “ I could not 
understand why Rob thought he was so much fun- 
nier than any of the others had been.” 

Every one laughed, and in the momentary silence 
152 


The Snowshoe Sisters 


which followed Judy’s voice rose with a distinct- 
ness which she had not intended. 

“ Aren’t they ever going to have supper, mother ? 
They keep laughing and laughing.” 

“ Right you are, Judy.” Ned Holt caught her 
up and swung her into a chair at one end of the 
table. “ Mrs. Stuart, will you sit beside Judy, 
please, and Ken is going to hold down the other 
end of the table with Rob. You’ll all find place- 
cards.” 

“ If you please, Robert, I should like to wash 
my face,” said Jane’s artist. Then, turning apolo- 
getically to Mrs. Stuart, he added, “ Miss Dexter has 
insisted upon painting me also when she has gifen 
the finishing touches to the — the other gentle- 
men.” 

“ What’s his name, Jane ? ” asked Serena, as Rob 
disappeared into the next room with the stranger. 
The latter’s empty chair was between them as they 
settled into their seats in obedience to the place- 
cards. 

“ Prescott, or something like that,” responded 
Jane vaguely. “ I was so embarrassed I can’t be 
sure of anything. Ask Jack.” 

But Jack, sitting on the other side of Serena, 
was absorbed in lighting the lamp under the chaf- 
ing-dish which stood in front of Marian, and didn’t 
even hear Serena’s question. 

*53 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ I do believe Marian is going to make * shrimp 
wiggle/ ” said Jane perplexedly. “ I thought the 
boys were boasting about getting up this supper all 
by themselves. Why, Serena/ 7 this after a pro- 
longed survey of the delicacies which the table af- 
forded, “ those cunning rolls certainly look like 
yours, and I should know Polly’s fudge if I met it 
on the Desert of Sahara.” 

“ They are mine,” began Serena, and then 
stopped to listen to Peggy who was saying in her 
critical, excited way, “ Ned Holt, you let me think 
that I was the only girl you were going to ask to 
do anything.” 

“ I said you were the only girl I was going to 
ask for cake,” Ned remarked calmly. He was 
busily engaged in serving cold chicken, and 
Peggy’s protest failed to make him look away from 
this absorbing occupation for a single instant. 
“ You were, but that didn’t keep me from begging 
Esther for her specialty. I didn’t want her to 
think she was neglected, and, besides, no one else 
makes such eat-all-you-can potato salad as she 
does.” 

“ And David Stuart made me feel that it wouldn’t 
be proper for me to contribute a glass bowl and 
cups unless I made a fruit lemonade to go with 
them,” said Carol severely. “ Of course they didn’t 
need it, but it would make my gift so much more 
154 


The Snowshoe Sisters 


complete, etc., etc. Entirely on my account, wasn’t 
it ? David, you’re a fraud.” 

“ Who’s scolding Davy ? ” demanded Rob, com- 
ing back with his friend, very rosy and smiling 
now, and insisting upon another apology to Mrs. 
Stuart before he seated himself between Jane and 
Serena. 

“ Rob, was this the joke on me you meant ? ” 
Jane demanded while the stranger was still at the 
other end of the table, “ or was it about Mr. — 
Mr. ” 

“ Prescott,” supplied Rob, looking guilty at once, 
but trying to conceal it. “ Let me see — what is 
this joke you’re talking about ? ” 

“ As if you didn’t know.” Jane’s scorn was 
crushing. “ You ridiculous thing, you made me 
think I was the only one who was going to be 
asked to cook anything for your old supper, and I 
fell into the trap like a lamb and was as proud as 
a peacock.” 

“ Well, but Mrs. Janes,” pleaded Rob, trying to 
put on an expression of injured innocence, “ it 
wasn’t my fault if you felt like a whole menagerie. 
Besides, I didn’t ask another Soul to do anything.” 

“ No, you left that for the other boys,” Jane re- 
torted. “ I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if Serena 
cooked the chicken as well as made those scrump- 
tious little rolls, and with my own eyes I can see 
• i55 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

Molly’s stuffed dates, and Rita’s salted nuts. I 
more than half believe that you’ve hidden a freezer 
full of Polly’s ice-cream somewhere.” 

“ How did you guess it? Aren’t you sorry?” 
Rob asked solemnly. Then as Mr. Prescott sat 
down next to Jane, he added, “ Well, anyway, we 
provided some things for this supper, didn’t we, 
boys ?” 

“ Sure thing,” David responded. “ Salt and 
butter — and — and water.” 

“ Tables — chairs and paper napkins,” enumer- 
ated Donald. 

“ Mercy ! Do we have to eat those? ” Carol ex- 
postulated in a plaintive tone. “ I shall make my 
Reginald — Percy — oh, what is his name — eat my 
share of the furniture. Chairs and paper napkins 
always give me bad dreams.” 

“Jiminy crickets, Carol, don’t say anything 
so witty as that again,” begged Rob, turning to 
thump Kenneth, who, in his joy at Carol’s remark, 
had choked over a biscuit. “ We don’t give any 
life insurance policies with this supper, but we 
should hate to have poor Ken knocked out in the 
first round.” 

“ Oh, I like to have people be funny when I eat,” 
gasped Kenneth, still alarmingly red and watery- 
eyed. “ When — when I laugh I can eat more.” 

“ Give him some more shrimp wiggle. I bet 
156 


The Snowshoe Sisters 

that’s the best you ever made, Marian,” said 
Stanley Oliver, tasting critically, and looking at 
the flushed cook with unwonted approval. 

“ Well, if you can find anything better than 
Serena’s chicken and biscuits and this potato salad 
of Esther’s, I should like to know about it.” 
Jack’s emphatic manner was distinctly impressive. 

“ I can taste five different Jdnds of fruit in 
this lemonade,” David remarked meditatively. 
“ There’s nothing stingy about Carol.” 

“ That isn’t a compliment, David Stuart,” pro- 
tested Carol with a worried air. “ They ought to 
be so mixed and — and blended that you taste just 
a delicious, mysterious-something, and you can’t 
tell ” 

“ I get her.” David hastily drank again, and 
smacked his lips appreciatively. “ I couldn’t guess 
in a thousand years what that taste is, but it’s the 
best ever.” 

“ I really feel,” observed Serena, after a compre- 
hensive survey of the table from which most of 
the food had disappeared, “ that we girls provided 
a great deal of this supper.” 

“ Well, what if you did ? ” retorted Ned with 
brotherly candor. “ Aren’t there more of you to 
eat it? ” 

“ My Discus has a frightful appetite.” Molly 
regarded the muscular figure beside her with fond 
i57 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

pride. “ He looks as if he could eat everything 
on the table.” 

“ He has some style about him,” Esther said 
with a worried -air. “ Byron Dry den Pope keeps 
trying to put his head in his plate, and it isn't 
good manners.” 

“ You see, girls,” remarked Rob, “ considering 
what we have said about this club-house being en- 
tirely for the boys, we felt just a little — well, a 
little bashful about asking you right out to pro- 
vide the supper for us.” 

“ Strange, I can't understand it,” murmured 
Polly, who had been unusually quiet. 

“ So we furnished all the really important things 
like mustard and olives and crackers and cheese.” 
It was Donald continuing the story now with a 
happiness in his eyes and smile that made the al- 
most-persuaded Perpetual Chaperone watch him 
with delight. “ And then we called on you girls 
for the trifling things that help fill up the table.” 

“ Trifles ! ” groaned Jane. “ If you say any- 
thing like that again, I shall put my head in my 
plate the way B. D. Pope does. Now, Mr. Pres- 
cott,” she added, turning eagerly to the young 
man beside her, “ I’ll leave it to you. Don’t you 
think we girls ought to have a share in this house 
when the boys depend on us to provide their 
spreads ? ” 


158 


The Snowshoe Sisters 

“ Surely, I do,” Mr. Prescott agreed earnestly. 
“ My sister and I, we like to share all things that 
we haf. We work together and we play together.” 

For the first time Jane noticed the slight foreign 
accent in the stranger’s speech and wondered a 
little. Then her attention was distracted by a re- 
mark from Stanley who was sitting opposite them. 

“ Girls want everything nowadays,” he grum- 
bled. “ Catch us teasing to belong to your club.” 

“ How are the Ninepins getting along?” in- 
quired Rob. “ Any initiations yet to fill the 
vacancies ? ” 

“ No,” said Molly, giving him a swift frown 
which was intended to tell him that the girls 
didn’t talk about this before Rita. “ We haven’t 
started in on any meetings yet, and I don’t know 
when we shall.” 

“ I found out something to-day that I bet you’d 
all like to hear,” remarked Stanley, who loved to 
be mysterious and important. 

“Tell us. We know you’re dying to,” Polly 
said promptly. 

Stanley shook his head, kept a dignified silence 
for a moment, and then, realizing that he was not 
going to be teased for his information, came out 
with it. 

“ Mr. Wells is going to leave,” he said sulkily. 

The effect was all he could have desired, for Mr. 
i59 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

Wells, who had taught the fathers and mothers of 
some of these girls and boys, was so beloved, and 
so identified with the Belhaven High School that 
no one could think of that institution without 
him. 

“ How perfectly dreadful ! Why ? ” asked Mar- 
ian excitedly. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose it’s because the 
committee think he’s too old. Anyway, they’re 
talking about having some young man take his 
place.” 

“ What a shame ! ” began Peggy. “ Doesn’t Mr. 
Wells feel perfectly heart-broken over it ? ” 

“ You bet he does.” Stanley knew nothing about 
Mr. Wells’ feelings, but he felt that a statement 
so indefinite as this could never be brought up 
against him. “ Some of us fellows,” he hinted 
darkly, “ are going to make it warm for any one 
who tries to take his place.” As he finished speak- 
ing he encountered the clear, penetrating gaze of 
Mr. Prescott, who had so much the air of wanting 
to ask a question that Stanley stared at him in- 
voluntarily. Something about the kindly, puzzled 
eyes made him rather ashamed of his last remark 
and he looked away with a little frown. 

“ Anyway, I think it’s darned mean to put out 
a man because he’s old,” he muttered. 

“ It would be if they did,” answered Rob 
160 


The Snowshoe Sisters 

quickly, and every one stopped talking to listen to 
his opinion, because Mr. Randall was chairman of 
the school-committee, and Rob ought to know if 
any one did. “ If Mr. Wells is going to leave, 
and, mind you, I don’t say that he is, it’s because 
he wants to go. And now, ladies and gentlemen,” 
he rose from his chair and rapped on the table in 
his most presidential manner, “ will you please 
keep quiet for a while ? Our esteemed fellow-citi- 
zen, Mr. Ned Holt, wishes to make a speech.” 

There was a prolonged burst of applause, which 
caused Rita to remark in an audible tone that 
when people were well-fed you could please them 
with anything. Then Ned rose to his feet. 

“ Of course you all know,” he began with an ad- 
mirable directness, “ that we couldn’t have had 
this house if it hadn’t been for Mr. Eliot. In the 
first place he was going to have it built for him- 
self and let us use it when he didn’t need it. 
Then last summer he got interested in our club, 
and he decided to have a camp somewhere else, 
and to let us fix this up just as we pleased. And 
you girls, at least,” Ned w r as growing more earnest 
as he proceeded, “ have no idea how he helped us 
out in the things we wanted to do. He hired a 
carpenter to show us how to build the thing right, 
and he insisted upon our having that dandy fire- 
place. Then he was awfully uneasy when we 
161 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

talked about using kerosene lamps, and he didn’t 
rest until he had found out that we could have 
electric wires brought over from near Mr. Trent’s 
house. I can’t begin to tell you how fine he was 
about it all. And we elected him honorary presi- 
dent of the Snowshoe Club, and now I propose his 
health.” Ned finished abruptly with his glass in 
his hand, and the others drank the toast with 
great eagerness, for each girl and boy of them was 
fond of Mr. Eliot. 

“ You don’t know our Uncle Stephen, do you, 
Mr. Prescott ? ” said Jane softly. “ I wish you did. 
He’s so splendid. Perhaps you will some time.” 

“ Mr. Toastmaster,” began Donald Lee, “ may I 
propose another honorary member and a toast ? ” 
He spoke very fast as if afraid that his courage 
might fail him if he hesitated. 

“ Go ahead, old fellow,” said Rob with cheering 
informality. 

“ I know that you have said a good deal about 
this club being only for boys ” 

“ Mercy, do you suppose he’s going to propose a 
girl?” ventured Marian with quite intentional 
clearness. “I’m all of a twitter.” 

“ It’s your shrimp wiggle. They can’t get along 
without that,” Carol murmured. 

“ Girls, girls, don’t be foolish and embarrass the 
speaker.” The toastmaster looked at them se- 
162 


The Snowshoe Sisters 

verely and rapped on the table with his knife 
handle. 

“I was going to say,” continued Donald, who, 
not yet fully initiated into this gay girl and boy 
chatter, felt a little helpless, “ that I thought it 
would be nice to make Cousin Elizabeth — I mean 
Mrs. Stuart — an honorary member and drink her 
health.” 

“ Of course. We don’t need to ballot for it. 
It’s a unanimous vote. And we all hope that she 
will decide to be our perpetual chaperone.” Rob 
was on his feet in a second with his glass held 
high, and to Jane’s joy all the boys rose and turned 
to the end of the table where Mrs. Stuart was 
sitting. 

“ My Algernon Claude won’t move a muscle,” 
grumbled Carol, trying her best to set the genteel 
youth beside her on his feet. “ He has no better 
manners than your poet, Esther.” 

“ Sh,” whispered Polly softly, for Mrs. Stuart, 
looking very small beside those tall girls and boys, 
and very pretty, her own two children thought, 
was rising from her chair. 

“ It’s nice of you to make me an honorary mem- 
ber and to drink my health,” she said simply. 
“ And I’m so pleased to have you want me for a 
perpetual chaperone that I’ve quite made up my 
mind to accept the position, with the understand- 
163 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

ing that I shall be with you myself or provide a 
suitable substitute. And now may I drink to the 
Snowshoe Club, with my congratulations upon its 
progressive and broad-minded ideas. ” 

There was a twinkle in Mrs. Stuart's brown eyes, 
a significance in the smile with which she ended, 
which made Jane feel at once that mother knew 
something which she herself had not been told, 
and this impression was confirmed by the meaning 
way in which the boys looked at each other and 
laughed. For the first time she realized clearly 
that her twin was deep in a mystery which he had 
been quite able to keep from her, and even in the 
midst of a good time the knowledge gave her a 
little pang. “ I suppose from now on Spinksy will 
get more and more chummy with those boys, and 
we shall be like any other brother and sister," she 
said to herself rather gloomily. 

“ What under the sun are you thinking about, 
Lady Jane?" demanded Rob, who was getting to 
his feet with a paper in his hand. “ Do seem a 
little more cheerful when I'm just going to read a 
toast to the girls. 

“ You will all feel sure that this poem was 
written by a real poet," he continued, looking as 
serious as his altogether cheerful countenance 
would permit. “ There is no name signed to 
it. It may perhaps be the work of the blushing 
164 


The Snowshoe Sisters 


young man sitting beside Esther. I refer to Mr. 
B. D. Pope, and I trust that he will not disclaim 
the authorship of this gem.” Rob waited for an 
instant with his eye fixed anxiously on the loppy 
poet. “ He does not deny it,” he proclaimed with 
absurd joyousness. “I will read. 

“ To leave out the ladies would surely not do, 

And so, Snowshoe Sisters, we’re now toasting you. 

When our needs were the greatest you came to our aid, 
Without you our banquet would fail, I’m afraid. 

For though we were sure that we could do it all, 

We felt much relieved when you came at our call, 

And did those small things which, we hasten to say, 

Mean so much to us boys on this house-warming day. 

We offer you then our best thanks, and yet more, 

The key to a locker, a key to the door. 

You may come here for rest, you may come here for fun, 
You may come in a storm or come in the sun ; 

You may hold your club meetings, talk, read, sew or play. 
Each Friday is yours, and what more can we say ? ” 

There was an instant of mystified silence on the 
part of the girls when Rob finished, then two or 
three started to speak at once. Finally out of the 
momentary confusion David’s voice came clearly. 

“ Hurrah for the Snowshoe Sisters,” he ex- 
claimed, waving his wisp of a paper napkin and 
nodding wildly at his mother. Then, as the other 
boys took up the cheer, Mrs. Stuart rose from the 
table and led the way into the third room of the 
house. 


165 


CHAPTER IX 


THE BONFIRE 

“ Step lively, girls,” Ned called from somewhere 
in the rear, “ and let all the Snowshoe Sisters get 
into their den.” 

“ Do you mean to say this splendiferous room 
really belongs to us?” demanded Polly, gazing 
around her with a wide-eyed stare. “ Girls, those 
are real lockers. There’s a name over each one, I 
do believe.” She was down on her knees in a 
second searching for her own property. 

“ What a gorgeous big, round table,” observed 
Carol, “and will you look at that fireplace just 
waiting for a match.” 

“ Each of us has a key ring with two keys on 
it.” Polly was rising from her investigation of 
the lockers, and she waved her own keys in tri- 
umphant proof. “ Isn’t that the completest 
thing? ” 

“ Girls, this is one on us,” Jane remarked with 
unusual seriousness. “ I shall have an everlast- 
ing pain in my conscience when I look at that 
Indian blanket on the couch, and those cushions. 

1 66 


The Bonfire 


They might just as well have taken those them- 
selves. And we were so afraid we shouldn’t get 
credit enough for cooking the supper.” 

“ Sh ! ” warned David solemnly. “ Don’t say 
anything, boys, and she’ll keep on working her- 
self up until she’ll propose washing the dishes.” 

“ Oh, not all those,” Jane protested weakly. 
“ I’d most rather not belong to ” 

“ You don’t have to wash ’em,” Jack reassured 
her. “ We’ve engaged Mrs. Trent to come over 
later, and make everything spick and span.” 

“ We’ve taken such pains with this dear little 
room,” began Rob in a voice artfully intended 
to work upon the feelings of the lady guests. 
“ We’ve worked so hard over it that we shall be 
awfully sorry if you don’t like it well enough to 
make up for the cooking you did for us.” 

“ Pile on the agony,” suggested Stanley, but a 
moan from Marian interrupted him, and every one 
turned to look at her as she plumped down in a 
chair and clutched her auburn locks with both 
hands. 

“ Do you smell anything burning ? ” she asked 
anxiously. “ I’ve always known that if any one 
was better to me than I deserve my hair would — 
would have — what do you call it — spontaneous 
combustion.” 

“ She thinks it is a disease,” Ned remarked in a 
167 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

solemn undertone. “ Never you mind, Marian. 
That shrimp wiggle deserves all we can do for you.” 

“ And if you get on fire well put you out — of 
the house,” added Stanley. 

“ Girls, see this love of a corner cupboard.” 
Molly Oliver, who had been making a systematic 
tour of observation, stood lost in admiration before 
this latest discovery. “ I’m going to bring over 
some cups and saucers, and we can make choco- 
late. Couldn’t you plan to come every Friday 
afternoon, Mrs. Perpetual Chaperone, and have 
fun with us ? ” she petitioned, dropping down on 
the couch beside Mrs. Stuart. 

“ Do, Mother Stuart.” Carol, who always 
claimed a share in Jane’s mother, crowded in 
on the other side, thereby dislodging Polly and 
Serena, to their outspoken disgust. 

Mrs. Stuart laughed. “ I’m quite sure I can if 
there’s anything left of me,” she said happily. It 
was satisfyingly characteristic of her to agree with- 
out demur to anything she thought possible. 
“ I’ve been planning to take my Friday after- 
noon walks in this direction, and I’m glad to be 
urged.” 

“ You must spend part of the time with us,” 
clamored two of the boys at the same moment. 

“ You’ve promised to teach Jack and me chess,” 
added Ned Holt. 

1 68 


The Bonfire 


“ Why go home at all, mother ? ” David ques- 
tioned with calm sarcasm. “ Of course we don’t 
need you.” 

Mrs. Stuart smiled. “ I’ll consider your ad- 
vice, Mr. David Stuart. Perhaps it would be a 
good ” 

Kenneth’s sturdy arms flung around her waist 
cut short her remark. “ Oh, mother, Davy didn’t 
mean that the least bit in the world,” he began 
anxiously. “ You know Judy and I aren’t Snow- 
shoe Clubbers,” and then, noticing the amused 
faces around him, he tried to slide away out <3f 
sight, only to be stopped by Rob. 

“ Say we make ’em both honoraries,” the latter 
proposed. “ Ken has really done a lot, and he 
never told a word.” 

“ I’ll be a messenger boy.” Kenneth, whose 
present fancy rather inclined to that as a profes- 
sion, felt his spirits rise. “ Can’t you sew some 
brass buttons on me, mother ? ” 

“I could be chief nurse,” suggested Judy. 
“ Don’t you remember how nicely I tied up your 
finger when you hammered it the other day, Rob? 
And if there’s anything I don’t know I’ll ask 
Susan.” 

“ Good for you. Let’s make it unanimous, 
boys. All in favor please stand. It is a vote. 
There, now you’re both honorary clubbers,” fin- 
169 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

ished Rob, dropping his presidential manner at 
once. “ Hello ! What’s all this ? ” 

The commotion at the door resolved itself into 
David, who, with an arm around the neck of 
Larry, Uncle Stephen’s huge dog, was turning to 
urge on Mr. Chope, standing, hesitant, in the next 
room. 

“ Come on in, Mr. Chope,” he said coaxingly. 
Then, having succeeded in getting the old man 
a little nearer, he continued, “ I thought as long 
as you were giving out offices to the Stuart family 
I’d bring in the janitor,” he indicated Mr. Chope 
with a nod, “ and the watchman. Come, Larry, 
shake hands with the ladies, and say you’ll take 
good care of them.” 

Larry, who was on exceedingly good terms with 
almost all these young people, made his friendly 
way around the room, lifting his great head for 
the caresses showered upon him, and occasionally 
giving a deep “ woof,” or a soft paw when suffi- 
ciently urged. 

Mr. Chope, stepping just inside the doorway, 
stood with his hat in his hand, beaming upon 
the assembled company while the boys shouted 
“ Speech ! speech ! ” and every one looked at him 
expectantly. 

“ I ain’t much on speechifying,” he began at last 
with that bashful good-fellowship which had made 
170 


The Bonfire 


the Stuart children like him from the first mo- 
ment, “ but I’m a dabster ” — he hesitated for an 
instant and his face wrinkled into one of its trans- 
figuring smiles — “ I’m a dabster at makin’ fires, 
and that’s more’n some janitors can say. Any 
time you want one jest say the word, and A. J. 
Chope, Janitor, ’ll be on hand.” 

He backed out of the room so consciously pleased 
with himself that his audience gave him a round 
of applause. Larry bounded after him, and they 
could all hear Mr. Chope say as he held the out- 
side door open, “ Steady there, watchman. Don’t 
you go knockin’ down the janitor,” and then his 
mirthful chuckle was cut short by the closing of 
the door. 

“ A. J. Chope,” murmured Jane. “ I suppose I 
thought he must have a first name, but I never 
heard even his initials before. Did you notice how 
nice he looked ? I’m afraid he’s getting to be a 
dandy.” 

“ He got that purple necktie down at the store 
the other day,” Kenneth remarked confidentially. 
“ He said it was his favorite color, and he thought 
men and boys ought to look as well as they could 
on account of the ladies.” 

“ Good for Mr. Chope,” began Jane, and then 
stopped and stared out of the window near her 
into the gathering darkness. Mr. Chope’s necktie 
171 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

had made her remember the purple satin gown, 
and from that her mind had jumped swiftly to the 
sad, unfriendly face of the girl in the bayberry- 
candle house. She had been too busy lately to 
think of her, but now the girl pushed her way in- 
sistently into Jane’s memory as though demand- 
ing her share of fun and comradeship. 

“ I don’t see how I can do anything about it,” 
Jane told herself uncomfortably. “ She won’t 
even let me be pleasant to her.” Suddenly her 
gaze focused itself on the window, and she was im- 
mediately conscious that the face she had been see- 
ing in her mind was there in reality, close to the 
glass, and hungrily observant of the good cheer 
within the room. 

With what she considered great presence of mind 
Jane repressed a little shriek, and promptly started 
across the room to where her mother was sitting, 
but one glance over her shoulder showed her that 
when she moved the face disappeared. “ No use 
to say anything about it,” she decided with un- 
usual wisdom. “ Some one might run out after 
the poor thing. I wish I could forget about 
her.” 

Serena was just starting a gay tune on her zither, 
and the songs that followed helped to quiet Jane’s 
perturbed spirit. To the joy of all of them, Mr. 
Prescott knew many of their songs, and added a 
172 


The Bonfire 


deep, sweet bass which made a fine foundation for 
the more youthful voices. He no longer seemed 
like a stranger to any of them, for he had chatted 
and laughed and entered into their fun so com- 
pletely that he seemed like one of themselves. He 
was seated near Mrs. Stuart now and Jane could tell 
at a glance that mother liked him. “ I must find 
out from Rob whether he really is an artist,” she 
thought with some eagerness. “ Probably that was 
only part of the joke.” 

“ IPs all dark and moonlighty outside,” an- 
nounced Kenneth, coming back to the inner circle 
after a prolonged survey of the night. “ I should 
think ’twas ’bout time ” 

“ So should I,” agreed Rob, jumping up from 
the floor, and starting for the next room. “ Come 
on, boys. Get your rubbers and your other duds, 
girls. We’re going for a stroll.” 

Five minutes later the boys came back each with 
a small, brightly polished lantern. “ Dr. Reed’s 
auto is over on the road by the Trent house,” Rob 
announced, “ and he says he’ll walk with us, and 
the chauffeur can take Mrs. Stuart and Judy and 
any of the others.” 

Carol, whose weak ankle frequently bothered 
her, and Peggy, who could always be persuaded to 
ride whenever there was a chance, decided to go 
in the machine with Mrs. Stuart. The others took 
i73 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

their way beachward, with the bobbing lanterns 
faintly illumining a path which was always being 
lost and found again. 

The lanterns, which to Jane’s fancy seemed like 
fireflies, threw queer shadows about them, and 
there were strange crackling noises, and the steady 
swish-swish through the fallen leaves. Suddenly 
she thought again of the face she had seen through 
the window, and she edged a little nearer Dr. 
Reed, who happened at the moment to be walking 
beside her. 

“ I don’t like queer, uncanny people, do you ? ” 
she asked, looking up at him with an unconscious 
appeal in her eyes. 

“ Not often ; but who is queer and uncanny ? ” 
he questioned in a low voice. 

Under cover of the gay chatter going on about 
her, Jane told Polly’s father about her first meet- 
ing with the bay berry-candle girl, and about this 
most recent glimpse of her. “ I more than half 
believe she’s right around here somewhere, and it 
makes me feel spooky,” she ended, glancing over 
her shoulder apprehensively. 

To her surprise the light from the doctor’s 
lantern revealed a very sober face looking down 
at her. 

“ Jane, I’m sorry for Mary Brown,” Dr. Reed 
said softly. “ She’s a poor, unhappy girl, and she 
i74 


The Bonfire 


needs friends more than any one I know. Some 
time perhaps I shall ask you to help me out a 
little.” 

“ Me ! ” exclaimed Jane. “ She can’t endure 
me,” but before she could say anything more the 
doctor was off by himself, turning his lantern with 
apparent carelessness from side to side, and whis- 
tling softly as he walked. 

By the time they reached the beach the sky was 
sown with stars, and in their midst a silver moon 
sailed serenely. The tide was out, leaving a smooth 
expanse of sand, and here the boys drove pointed 
stakes which appeared mysteriously from behind 
Mr. Chope's little shelter house on the ridge. On 
these they hung their twinkling lanterns, which 
from a little distance looked like jeweled pendants 
suspended mysteriously in air. Out of reach of 
the water, on the dry sand, rose a great dark heap 
of brushwood. 

“ Oh, a bonfire ! 77 shrieked Polly. “ Boys, have 
3'ou brought plenty of potatoes? ” 

“ Isn’t that just what you’d expect Polly to 
say ? ” Rita observed maliciously. “ Such fatten- 
ing things, too.” 

Polly walked away with a shrug. She knew it 
was absurd to take Rita’s remarks to heart, but 
she couldn’t always help it. 

“ It’s a shame it’s too late for corn,” remarked 
i75 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

Ned. “ We got so interested in the club-house 
this year that we forgot our usual bonfire.” 

“ Potatoes and salt and crackers are good enough 
for any one,” Rob said decidedly. He and David, 
and Mr. Chope, who had met them at the beach, 
were busy stowing away potatoes in the heap of 
brush which Kenneth and Mr. Chope had collected 
and piled with a view to speedy consumption. 

Mrs. Stuart and the girls stood around waiting 
with eager anxiety for the torch to be applied. 
Jane, with Donald, had walked a little way back 
from the others toward Mr. Chope's shelter, and 
Jane was telling her cousin about the first clam- 
bake the Stuart family had in Belhaven, and how 
she had almost missed the time of her life by re- 
fusing to eat a clam. Near by Dr. Reed and 
Mr. Prescott were getting acquainted with each 
other. 

Suddenly Jane stopped speaking and clutched 
Donald's arm. 

“Did you see that?” she half whispered. 
“ Some one is watching us from behind Mr. 
Chope's little house.” 

“ It's just two girls,” Donald said calmly. “ I 
saw them come up there a minute ago. They 
probably want to see the fun.” 

“ Then I know who it is. It's the girl I told 
you about the other afternoon. Don't you remem- 
176 


The Bonfire 


ber — the one who thought I was going to carry off 
her dog?” Jane spoke in a soft undertone, and 
made a hesitating movement in the direction of 
Dr. Reed, who was a short distance away from 
them with his back toward the shelter. “ Do you 
think I ought to tell him ? ” she asked doubtfully. 
“ He’s her doctor, you see, and we were speaking 
about her on the way over.” 

“ Why don’t you let her look on without being 
noticed if she wants to?” Donald’s question was 
so matter of fact and sensible that Jane felt a little 
ashamed of herself for making so much out of the 
occurrence. Of course, why shouldn’t the girl 
look on if she wished? The beach was free to 
every one. 

“ Let’s go back with the others,” she proposed 
abruptly, turning her back to the little house on 
the crest of the beach, and facing the ocean and 
the bonfire. “ Oh, look, they’ve lighted it al- 
ready ! See the fire creeping up through the 
branches.” 

The wood was so dry and had been heaped so 
scientifically that almost before she finished speak- 
ing, a volume of flame burst forth and leaped into 
the air. There was a shout of delight from the 
young people on the beach, and on the end of it, 
so close that it seemed like an echo, came a half- 
stifled shriek of intense terror, which was heard 
1 77 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

only by the four persons standing near Mr. Chope’s 
little house. 

Dr. Reed and Jane, wheeling at the same mo- 
ment, were instantly sure that the girl, standing 
as if petrified, and with not the slightest attempt 
at concealment, was the Mary Brown of whom they 
had been speaking. She was apparently unaware 
of anything except the mounting flames, but before 
Dr. Reed had taken two steps toward her, she had 
turned, and was running as though her life de- 
pended upon it. Another person, apparently an 
older, larger girl, followed, getting over the ground 
with ineffectual clumsiness, and calling under her 
breath to the flying figure before her. 

“ Better not say anything about this to the 
others,” Dr. Reed cautioned, as he and Mr. Pres- 
cott reached Jane and Donald. “ It’s more ex- 
plainable than it seems, though I can’t tell you 
about it now. I believe I’ll follow them. Jane, 
please tell your mother that I don’t want my 
youngster to stay too late.” And then he, also, 
took the road in pursuit, and a moment later was 
lost to sight in the darkness. 

“ Is — is any one else going to fly off like that? ” 
quavered Jane, shaking a little in spite of her- 
self. “ I believe I want to go back where folks 
are.” 

The tall young man beside her was instantly 
178 


The Bonfire 


sympathetic. “ You’ve had too many surprises, 
Miss Jane,” he said, bending his head to look at 
her. “ First, my foolishness, and now — this.” 

“ Oh, I didn’t mind you at all,” Jane hastened 
to say. “ But that scream.” The little shuddering 
sigh with which she ended was so unmistakable 
that Donald tucked her hand under his arm pro- 
tectingly. “ Come on, Mrs. Janes,” he said, turn- 
ing her toward the cheerful fire and the gay group 
on the beach. “ Come on and get warm.” 

“ See ! What a picture ! ” Mr. Prescott paused 
when they had covered half the distance. “ How 
the firelight brings out the faces, and throws 
wonderful shadows. Ach, what would I gif to 
paint him.” 

Jane faced him excitedly. “ Then you are 
really an artist,” she said breathlessly. “ Oh, I 
have so wanted to know one, and that is just the 
way I feel when I see anything beautiful. I wish 
—I wish ” 

“ Yes, you wish ? ” 

There was something so encouraging, so friendly 
in the voice and manner of this new acquaintance 
that Jane found it almost easy to go on. 

“ I wish I could some time talk to you about it,” 
she ventured. “ A real artist would know whether 
it is worth while for me to try to learn to draw 
and paint.” 


179 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

They had come almost to the others now, but 
there was still time for the young man's answer. 

“ I’m not yet a real artist, Miss Jane,” he said in 
all humility. “ It takes a lifetime — but I’m work- 
ing always and — and loving it. If you haf the 
strong desire — and are willing to work, that is at 
least one reason why I should think it worth while 
for you to try. Some time — before long, perhaps, 
I shall see you again, and you will show me your 
sketches, nicht wahr ? We will then talk about 
it all.” He finished hurriedly, for light and 
warmth and questioning people were all about 
them. 

“ I am only too sorry to say good-bye,” he went 
on in response to a question from Mrs. Stuart. 
“ But trains will not wait, and I have promised 
my grandfather that I shall return to-night. Dr. 
Reed offers to send me to the station in his auto- 
mobile, and I must make my farewells quickly.” 

Rob, coming back to the beach after taking Mr. 
Prescott to the doctor’s car, found Jane strangely 
silent, clinging to her mother’s arm. 

“ What’s the matter, Lady Jane ? ” he demanded. 
“ Why aren’t you dancing around, and making fun 
for the rest of us the way you usually do ? Hold 
on, I have a beautiful gift for you.” He left her, 
and Jane could see him making apparently futile 
dabs at the fire with a long iron rod. At last he 
180 


The Bonfire 


gave a cry of triumph, rushed at a boy standing 
near and took a salt-shaker from him ; on the way 
back to Jane captured a package of crackers, and 
finally presented his silent friend with a potato so 
hot that she had to roll it from hand to hand. 

“ Hold it. It’s good for you,” he insisted inex- 
orably when she threatened to drop it. “ Now 
always remember what my first present to you was. 
I picked that one out for you because it was the 
biggest and cleanest one I saw, and I tucked it 
away where I could find it. Now, isn’t that touch- 
ing?” 

“ Terribly so,” said Jane, making up a little 
face. “ ’Specially touching when you keep it too 
long in one hand. Rob, you’re a ridiculous lad, 
but you make me feel quite cheerful again. Please 
give me the salt and two whole crackers.” 

With the eating of the delicious potato Jane’s 
good spirits returned. One couldn’t be sober long 
in the midst of so much gayety. The boys threw 
wood on the fire until the flames illumined the 
smooth, hard beach nearer the water. There they 
played tag and ran races, and set up stakes for 
corners in a Puss-in-the-corner game. As the fire 
died down they took hands and danced around 
the blaze, and the Perpetual Chaperone was just 
like a girl, and Kenneth felt that he was as old as 
any of them, and Mr. Chope was either laughing 
1 8 1 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

or singing snatches of the sea-songs in which he 
delighted. 

On the way home, Rob’s father, meeting the 
jolly company at the corner where they were to 
separate, stopped to speak to all, and claim his boy. 

“ How did you like the new young man, Mrs. 
Stuart ? ” he questioned with some eagerness. 
“ He’s the son of an old friend of mine, and a fine 
fellow, I think.” 

“ I like him very much, Mr. Randall,” Mrs. 
Stuart said cordially. “ He fitted in so well that 
he didn’t seem like a ‘ new young man ’ at all. 
I’m sure I can speak for the others, too.” 

There was an enthusiastic chorus of agreement 
from almost all the listening group, and Mr. 
Randall’s face, lighted by the lamp on the corner, 
beamed with pleasure. 

“ Glad of it,” he said. “ My friend, Fred Pres- 
cott, married a German girl, and this boy was born 
and educated over there, so it will be just like hav- 
ing a native teacher ” He stopped abruptly and 

looked half apologetically at his son. “ Well, I 
don’t see why I shouldn’t tell you, after all. Mr. 
Wells insists upon resigning, and we’ve voted this 
evening to try Frederick Prescott in his place.” 

There was a groan from Rob as his father finished. 
“ Oh, Dad, you wouldn’t even let me whisper it, 
and I was aching to tell,” he said with such deep 
182 


The Bonfire 


disgust that his chums roared with laughter, and 
expressed their delight over his discomfiture in 
various characteristic ways. 

“ I call it mighty sneaky to get acquainted with 
us all under false pretenses,” Stanley muttered 
under cover of the laughter. He had suddenly 
realized that he had put himself wrong with the 
new teacher from the start. 

Jane, happening to hear the remark, turned on 
him sharply. “ I don't see why you’re so grouchy 
about it. He wasn’t pretending to be anything so 
far as I can see. And besides, he didn’t actually 
know that he could have the position.” 

“ Children, children, don’t end a jolly evening 
by quarreling,” said Mrs. Stuart with a laugh. 
“ Stanley, I want to ask a favor of you.” She had 
pulled him toward her as she spoke, and was look- 
ing straight into his eyes with her charming smile. 
“ Will you please come in some day and look at 
my sewing-machine again ? Davy doesn’t com- 
pare with you as a machinist.” 

Stanley’s irritation vanished. For the moment 
he was as clear-eyed and • responsive as her own 
two boys. “ Sure, I will. When do you want 
me ? ” he asked eagerly. 

“ The very first time you have a chance. And 
now scatter, children, or your mothers won’t want 
me for a perpetual chaperone.” 

183 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

There was a chorus of farewells and parting jests 
as the young people separated. Molly Oliver, 
watching her chance, put her arms around Mrs. 
Stuart and laid a soft cheek on hers. “ I do get so 
worried about Stan. I wish I knew how to man- 
age boys the way you do,” she murmured wist- 
fully. “ I believe — I believe you're the mother of 
all the world.” 


184 


CHAPTER X 


CAROL AND THE SHEETED SEVEN 

For the next three weeks the weather played all 
sorts of tricks, and set people to wondering what 
season it really was. It began directly after the 
Snowshoe Club house-warming by turning almost 
as cold as winter, raining itself into hail, and 
tempestuously whipping the ocean until the waves 
became a sight worth going far to see. Then, 
about the middle of November, came several days 
when warm clothing seemed a burden, and one 
was again tempted by tennis and out-of-doors. 

Jane, going home from school on one of the 
mildest of these afternoons, saw Dr. Reed stopping 
his automobile just ahead of her, and realized that 
he was waiting to speak to her. As she ap- 
proached she recognized a gleam of triumph in 
his glance, so funnily like Polly when she had got 
her own way about something, that Jane laughed 
in spite of herself, and wondered what the doctor 
had been up to now. 

“ You thought I couldn’t get her to, and I 
have,” was his somewhat puzzling greeting. 

“ Who’s her, and what have you made her do 
now ? ” 


185 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Ungrammatical child ! Don’t let Miss Ball 
catch you saying ‘ who’s her.’ I’m talking about 
Mary Brown, of course.” 

“ O-oh. How is she?” Jane knew that the 
girl in the bayberry-candle house had been ill 
since the night of the bonfire, and she tried to seem 
as interested and solicitous as she was sure Dr. 
Reed expected her to be. For some reason, perhaps 
because she had been so startled that night, her 
curiosity about Mary Brown was obscured by the 
feeling of dislike, almost of repulsion, that the 
girl’s peculiarities had created. At this moment 
she wished with all her heart that she need not 
hear anything more about her. 

“ She’s beginning to feel pretty well again now,” 
announced the doctor triumphantly. “ And she 
has promised me that she will let you come to see 
her next Friday afternoon. I steered her into say- 
ing that day because I know you girls always plan 
all the out-of-school things for Friday and Satur- 
day.” 

Dr. Reed’s enjoyment of his masterly manage- 
ment was so evident that Jane struggled to con- 
quer her dismay. “ But, Dr. Reed,” she faltered 
at last, “ it’s — it’s so pleasant out-of-doors this 
week, and Friday afternoon we’re going for a walk 
and end up at the little house.” 

“ Whe-ew,” whistled the doctor contritely, con- 
186 


Carol and the Sheeted Seven 


scious all at once that his plan wasn’t meeting 
with the favor he had expected. “ I ought to 
have remembered to ask Polly before I set a day. 
She keeps me straight.” 

“ But there are lots of nice girls who don’t be- 
long to our crowd,” Jane suggested hopefully. 

“ She refuses to have any one but you.” 

“ How queer, when I know she hasn’t any use 
for me. Why couldn’t I go some other afternoon, 
then? ” In her secret heart Jane was wishing she 
need not be obliged to go at all. She never knew 
just how to act with people who were ill, or in any 
way strange. 

“ It seems absurd,” began Dr. Reed after a 
thoughtful pause, “ but do you know, I’m almost 
sure that if I try to change the day I shan’t be 
able to get her to promise again. And I’m count- 
ing a great deal on having the right sort of a girl 
to help poor Mary and ” 

“ Is she poor?” Jane asked suddenly, quite un- 
conscious that she was interrupting. 

“ I consider her the poorest girl I know,” an- 
swered the doctor slowly, frowning a little as he 
spoke. “ Let’s see, Jane. This is Tuesday, isn’t 
it? Why not think it over for a day or two? In 
the meantime perhaps I can make a different ar- 
rangement. At any rate you needn’t plan to 
spend the whole afternoon with her. Perhaps a 
187 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

half hour, or an hour — -just to help me out of my 
experiment. I’ve got to make that poor girl well 
in some way, Miss Jane Stuart, and I need you for 
an assistant.” 

Dr. Reed’s manner was so pleading, so confi- 
dential, so funnily insistent, that Jane had to 
smile back at him, though inwardly she still felt 
rebellious. 

“ Well, I suppose I can go,” she said, and was a 
little ashamed to have it sound so half-hearted. 
“ You’ll have to tell me how to behave,” she went 
on. “ I shall be sure to say or do something to 
make her go off* like a firecracker.” 

“Just be yourself. But I’ll see you again, and 
find out if you really will be my assistant. I 
don’t want to force you into anything, you know.” 

Jane fancied the doctor wasn’t quite so pleased 
with her as usual, and as the machine glided away 
she still stood there with her eyes fixed on the 
ground and the toe of her shoe mechanically roll- 
ing over and over a small sharp pebble. She 
couldn’t understand why Mary Brown should 
want her, nor why she, herself, was finding it so 
difficult to slide out of doing a disagreeable thing. 
“ If she wasn’t so — so uncanny, I suppose I should 
be crazy to know who she is and all about her,” she 

said to herself gloomily, “ but as it is Ouch ! 

that stone is as sharp as a needle. I shall have a 
1 88 


Carol and the Sheeted Seven 


hole in my shoe if I keep on, and then mother 
will be sad.” She started once more toward home, 
her mind busy in trying to find a way out of this 
unpleasant situation, but a moment later a sharply 
prolonged, “ Ja-ane,” made her stop and turn 
around. 

“ You’re rushing as if wild animals were after 
you,” said Carol, coming up quite breathless and 
rather aggrieved. “ I called you three times be- 
fore you paid any attention.” 

“ I didn’t hear a sound. I waited for you after 
school, but some one said you’d gone.” 

“ No, I was trying to explain to Miss Coles why 
I positively can’t get to school on time in the 
morning, but somehow she didn’t seem to under- 
stand my point of view. I don’t get on a bit well 
with people who don’t see things the way I do.” 

Jane could not help laughing at her friend’s 
plaintive manner, and, for the moment, forgot her 
own perplexities. “ Poor little Carol ! It’s a 
shame she’s so abused.” 

“ Oh, I am, I am. I’m as blue as indigo to-day, 
and so cross I can’t see straight. Rita Hastings and 
those girls she goes with get on my nerves so that 
I just can’t stand them. You’ve either got to be 
terribly chumm}^ with them, or let them alone 
and have them hate you. They’re perfectly hor- 
rid to me.” 


jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ What do they do ? ” asked Jane curiously. 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” Carol responded vaguely. 
u It’s more the atmosphere, you know — and little 
remarks. Can’t you always feel it when people 
don’t like you, and— and have it in for you ? I 

suppose I have said things ” she stopped, and 

looked at Jane with a mischievous appeal in her 
eyes. 

“ I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if you have,” 
Jane responded unfeelingly. “ I’ve seen Rita just 
boiling mad over some of the things you said to 
her when she was trying to be chummy with you. 
But don’t you worry. They’ll get tired of it.” 

“ I hope so. I’d give anything if something 
really nice would happen to me. When do you 
suppose the Junior Ninepins are going to initiate 
us, Lady Jane? ” 

“ Why, I don’t know,” began Jane slowly, but 
Carol went on without waiting for a more definite 
answer. 

“ Do you suppose it hurts ? ” she said with a 
nervous laugh. “ I’m all in a twitter when I 
think of it.” 

“ Of course not. They only make you do some- 
thing queer or funny ; something you would never 
expect to do. At least that’s my idea of it, and I 
feel it in my bones that it’s going to happen 
soon.” 


190 


Carol and the Sheeted Seven 


“ So do I,” murmured Carol, getting a fresh 
hold on her books, and preparing to start along. 
“ Can’t you come over this afternoon, Jane ? ” 

“ Afraid I can’t. Mother called after me when 
I went to school to tell me not to promise to do 
anything because she wanted me,” Jane explained. 

“ I’m sorry. I thought you might cheer me up.” 

“ I’ve got troubles of my own,” Jane called from 
the piazza, and Carol in her sympathetic interest 
almost turned back to ask what they were, but de- 
cided to go home instead. 

At the front door the maid greeted her with the 
news that her mother had unexpectedly gone to the 
city, and she immediately felt aggrieved because 
she had not gone also. Then, her eye falling on 
a queer-looking missive lying on the hall-table, 
she pounced upon it and found it was addressed 
to her. 

“ A small boy left it, Miss Carol,” volunteered 
the maid as she disappeared from view. 

The paper, which was without an envelope, was 
folded in a shape which, to any one with an active 
imagination, might have suggested some kind of 
a queer bird, and Carol, already feeling more 
cheerful, spurred her fancy to meet the situation. 

“ It’s the ‘ Ninepins,’ of course. It’s meant for 
an owl, I’m sure, and that’s their mascot,” she 
meditated, staring hard at the folded paper. Then, 
191 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

as she opened it, “ Probably Peggy's little brother 
left it." 

Only a few lines in a queer, angular handwrit- 
ing met her eye : “ Go to the ‘ Nutshell ' and ask 
for a note addressed to you. Speak to no one 
about what you are told to do this afternoon." 

The “ Nutshell " was a gift-shop on the way to 
the station, and Carol began to put the hatpins 
back into her hat at once. 

“ Never mind getting anything for me, Cora," 
she said, poking her head into the dining-room, 
where the preparations already made for her 
lunch almost shook her resolution. “ I'm not 
very hungry, and I'm in a hurry to go out 
again." 

As she left the house it occurred to her that 
probably Jane had received a similar communica- 
tion, and she wondered if they should meet in the 
course of their wanderings. To be sure Jane had 
said her mother needed her this afternoon, but, 
of course, no self-respecting mother would keep 
her daughter away from an initiation. “ There’s 
no knowing what those girls will make me do," 
she said to herself faint-heartedly. “ They’re 
always poking fun at me because I hate to walk. 
Why, oh why, did they hit on a day when the 
automobile is being repaired ? " 

The proprietress of the “ Nutshell," who was a 
192 


Carol and the Sheeted Seven 


great favorite with all the girls, waved an envelope 
at her as she entered the shop. “ Left for you by 
a small boy whom I don’t know,” was the friendly 
greeting, and Carol took the missive to find in 
staring letters on the outside, “ Open before leav' 
ing the 4 Nutshell.’ ” Inside came first the per- 
emptory command, “ Buy two pounds of the 
home-made candy, and bring it with you I ” 

“Well, I like that!” began Carol, and then 
remembered that she had been cautioned not to 
tell what she was required to do. “ I’ll take two 
pounds of the home-made,” she said rather sulk- 
ily, recalling, to her discomfort, that her allowance 
was at a low ebb. She turned back to the note 
while she waited, and read, “ Go to post-office and 
ask for letter in your box.” 

“ Horrors ! Another long walk, and the box of 
candy to carry ! ” Carol’s face grew very sober. 
The fun of being initiated wasn’t all she had sup- 
posed it to be, she decided. 

The decree of the post-office note seemed even 
more exhausting than the others. “ Go ” — Carol 
groaned softly over the first word — “ go to the 
Murray elm, stay underneath it, blindfold your- 
self and wait for what will happen. If you peek 
it will be known, and all you have done this after- 
noon will be wasted.” 

Everv one in Belhaven knew the old elm, 
193 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

famous for its beauty, which stood in a vacant lot 
owned by the Murray family. 

“ It’s a good half mile from here. I simply will 
not go,” decided Carol stubbornly. Then the 
memory of some of the Ninepin good times she 
had heard about made her change her mind, and 
she started out, hoping with all her heart that this 
would be the end of her pilgrimage. “ Anyway, 
probably there won’t be any more foolish letters, 
and that will be a relief.” 

Arrived at last under the big elm, she sat down 
forlornly with her back against it, and the candy- 
box lying in her lap. “ I wish I had something 
thicker than this ridiculous little handkerchief 
for a bandage,” she murmured, trying to adjust it 
so that it wouldn’t come off. When that was ac- 
complished she closed her eyes and rested her 
head against the tree. They needn’t be worried 
for fear she would peek, she told herself wearily. 
She was glad to shut her eyes, and she didn’t care 
anything about their old club. 

She began to take a little more interest in life 
and initiations, when, at the end of what seemed 
to her an interminable silence, she was aware of a 
soft tread close at hand, and the gentle removal 
of the box of candy from her lap. 

“ Get up,” a perfectly unrecognizable voice said 
in her ear. “ Come with me.” 

194 


Carol and the Sheeted Seven 


“ I’m shutting my eyes so tight that it hurts,” 
Carol hastened to remark as she scrambled to her 
feet, but this elicited no encouraging comment 
from the girl who had her in charge, and who was 
already starting off with her arm firmly in that 
of her captive. 

Judging from her height Carol felt sure that her 
guide was either Serena or Molly, but her artful 
attempts to find out met with no response, and she 
relapsed into silence. With her eyes shut and 
bandaged, the way seemed tiresomely long, and 
she breathed a sigh of relief when the mounting 
of steps proclaimed that they had arrived some- 
where. 

“ Sit down. Wait until you’re told before you 
open your eyes,” said the muffled voice, and then 
Carol realized that she was being seated in a chair, 
that there was a sound of retreating footsteps, and 
that a door had closed with a soft click. 

There was something so oppressive about being 
left alone in a place she didn’t know, that Carol’s 
first impulse was to tear off the handkerchief and 
look about her. Then, deciding that it would be 
too bad to give up after what she had already been 
through, she resigned herself to the situation, and 
shut her eyes tighter than ever. 

Fortunately this time the suspense was soon 
over, for the door opened and she could hear 
i95 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

stealthy footsteps and the soft rustle of garments. 
Then the handkerchief was taken from her 
eyes, and for the first moment she could see 
nothing. 

Gradually her eyes accustomed themselves to 
freedom and the gloominess of the room in which 
she found herself. In one glance she discovered 
that heavy draperies veiled the windows, and that 
the two widely separated candles gave so little 
light that she could not recognize the room, nor 
identify the sheeted figures which sat in a row a 
little distance from her. 

For an instant nothing broke the tense silence. 
Then, “ You are brought here to be tried by this 
honorable court,” said a voice so effectually dis- 
guised that it gave the victim not the least clue. 
“ Are you ever able to tell the truth ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, once in a while,” Carol answered, de- 
termined to carry off her part of it lightly. In 
her secret heart she was already resenting this first 
question. 

“She tells the truth once in a while,” came in 
solemn muffled chorus from the sheeted figures, 
and Carol jumped nervously. All at once the 
whole thing seemed to her very stupid and silly, 
and she wished herself out of it. Then, as before, 
she resolved to make the best of it. 

“ How many times a week do you think you 
196 


Carol and the Sheeted Seven 

tell the truth ? ” demanded the single voice peremp- 
torily. 

“ Oh, perhaps seven,” was the airy response ; 
“ possibly once a day.” 

There was a rustle of garments as the swaying 
figures took up the refrain. “ She — speaks — the 
— truth — possibly — once — a — day,” they chanted 
in an explosive whisper. 

Carol shivered a little. The gloom, the lack of 
air, the solemn chorus, were getting on her nerves. 
She had thought the Ninepin girls were such good 
friends, and now they were being altogether horrid 
to her. She counted them over. There were 
seven, and her mind leaped at once to the conclu- 
sion that Jane had been initiated earlier in the 
afternoon, and was now permitted to join in this 
ceremony. 

“ Were you telling the truth when you said your 
mother knows the author of — of — oh, of that 
book every one is talking about just now ? You 
remember the one I mean. And are you truly go- 
ing to entertain the author ? ” 

Carol did remember, and she felt as though a 
small-sized bomb had exploded under her feet. 
« X — w hy — I ” — she stammered hastily, not stop- 
ping to realize that no one could make her answer 
if she should refuse — “ my mother did meet a 
lady — who knows a lady — who knew the author 
197 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

when he was a little boy. And if he ever did come 

to Boston, perhaps ” her voice died away into 

silence. 

“ Perhaps — if he ever did come to Boston,” 
groaned the chorus sadly. “ Her mother knows a 
lady who knew a lady.” 

“ Oh, I think you’re perfectly maddening,” said 
Carol, trying to take it all like a good sport, and 
somehow managing a laugh that sounded peril- 
ously near to tears. “ You know I don’t expect 
you to believe those things when I say them. 

“ You’d much better take out those buttons or 
marbles or whatever you have in your mouths, 
and put in some of my delicious home-made in- 
stead,” she went on audaciously, when a moment’s 
pause in the proceedings had given her a slight re- 
newal of courage. 

The figure in the middle of the row waggled its 
head ominously, and the others followed suit. 

“ We are not to be bribed, but we accept your 
offer of the candy,” announced the muffled voice 
of the chief inquisitor. Then there was another 
oppressive pause which got on Carol’s nerves even 
more than the questions. She felt that she dis- 
liked all the girls violently. In the half light she 
had already decided that Molly was the tall figure 
in the middle, and that Serena was at one end 
and Jane — it hurt more than anything else to 
198 


Carol and the Sheeted Seven 


think it was Jane — was at the other. The re- 
maining figures were all about of a height, and, 
except that one of them looked stouter than the 
rest and might be Polly, she could not distinguish 
them. 

“ Were you telling the truth,” the figure in the 
center of the row monotonously began again, 
“ when you asked a girl to meet you, didn’t keep 
your appointment, and said your mother wouldn’t 
let you go ? ” 

Carol searched her memory wildly for a moment 
to place this particular instance. It might have 
answered for several occasions, she confessed to 
herself with some shame. Probably Rita Hastings 
was the girl they meant, for Rita had found out 
that Mrs. Heath wasn’t at home that afternoon, 
and hadn’t hesitated to make public that fact, and 
her own tedious waiting. 

“ Oh, well, it made it easier for the girl to think 
that,” Carol muttered sulkily, beginning to wonder 
why she was answering these questions and why 
she didn’t just get up and walk out. “ And, any- 
way, if mother had been at home she probably 
wouldn’t have let me go.” 

There was a suppressed giggle, and one of the 
shorter figures shook silently. Carol felt sure that 
it was Marian Chester. She glanced furtively 
toward the door, and tried to get up courage to put 
199 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

an end to all this. Suddenly Jane's description of 
an initiation flashed through her mind : “ They 
only make you do something queer or funny ; 
something you would never expect to do.” Jane 
had certainly hit it right, she thought forlornly, 
but she herself had never dreamed that anything 
could make her feel so friendless, so forsaken as 
she did at this moment. 

“ Do you realize,” the hateful voice had begun 
again, “ that no one who really knows you believes 
the stories you tell ? That if you say a thing is so, 
they feel sure that it isn't. Were you telling the 
truth ” — Carol put both hands over her ears 
and then limply let them fall again. She knew 
she should shriek if she should have to hear those 
words again — “ when you said that you tried 
to lead a blind man across a street in the city, and 
the man struggled, and a policeman threatened to 
arrest you for kidnapping ? ” 

“ Oh — oh, no one but Jane could tell that wasn’t 
true ! ” Carol burst into a storm of tears and 
jumped from her chair. “ I — I’m going home,” 
she sobbed, feeling her way blindly to the door. 
There was a murmur of protest, a movement of the 
sheeted figures toward her. 

“ Don’t you dare stop me,” she cried in a shrill, 
hysterical voice. “ You’re mean, cruel girls, and 
— and most of all I hate you, Jane Stuart.” 

200 


CHAPTER XI 


NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH 

Once outside in the clear sunshine, Carol did 
not stop to find out where she was, nor from what 
house she had come, but ran without seeing, shaken 
by choking sobs, and searching wildly for an un- 
discoverable handkerchief. Suddenly she turned 
her ankle and almost went down ; then limped 
along despairingly in spite of the hurt of it until a 
boy, coming around a corner on a bicycle, rec- 
ognized her and nearly fell off in his amazement. 

“ Here ! Hold up ! What is the matter, Carol ? ” 
he demanded so sympathetically that an unre- 
strained sob was her only response. In another 
second he was walking beside her with his wheel, 
and trying to see the face which she obstinately 
averted. 

At the first sound of his voice she had started 
toward him in her relief. Then she remembered 
that this was Jane’s brother, her twin, and that he 
felt just as Jane did about a great many things. 

“ I wish you’d go away,” she whimpered, the 
effort to speak making the tears come blindingly 
again. “ I — I don’t want to see any one.” 

201 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Well, perhaps you don’t,” responded David 
with the severity he sometimes felt obliged to use 
with Jane, “ but if you think I’m going to leave 
you a mile away from home, limping like a good 
one in the wrong direction, and — and not looking 
— exactly — happy, you’re mistaken. Here, take 
this,” he ended peremptorily. “ It’s clean. Mother 
tucked it into my pocket just before I left home.” 

Carol took the handkerchief thankfully, though 
she still refused to look at him. 

“ Now let’s go the other way, and you tell me 
what the matter is,” he coaxed a moment later. 

“ No, no ; not that way ! ” Carol was all tears 
and excitement again. “ I — I couldn’t go by that 
house,” she said with a shudder. 

“What house? We can turn down this street 
we’ve just passed, and then we shan’t go by it. 
Here, sit on my bike and I’ll wheel you. That 
ankle isn’t fit to be stepped on.” 

Carol obeyed without a word. It was so 
good to have some one kind to her instead of 
horrid, she thought with a sigh of pity for her- 
self. 

“ Are you — were you going home ? ” she asked 
a few moments later, having regained a fair degree 
of calmness. 

“I am and I was.” David realized that his 
answer sounded curt, but long experience had 
202 


Nothing But the Truth 

taught him that when his twin was trying to keep 
back the tears it was wiser for him to seem un- 
sympathetic, and he supposed all girls were built 
that way. 

Carol was silent for some time after that except 
for an occasional shuddering sigh which she tried 
hard to smother. Probably David and the other 
boys knew something about this trick the girls 
had played on her. Very likely they all thought 
it would be good for her to have her faults shown 
up in this way. No doubt they expected her to 
reform, and never tell the funny, interesting things 
that made people stare, and wonder, and then 
laugh. She made up her mind to ask her mother 
and father to go away from Belhaven. She never 
wanted to see those girls again, not even Jane. 
And then at the thought of Jane, her lip quivered, 
and a large tear slid down her nose without inter- 
ruption. 

They were getting near the center of the town 
now and David glanced furtively at his charge. 
To his dismay she was showing all the symptoms 
of bursting into tears again. 

“Say, Carol, brace up,” he entreated, and then, 
hoping to make her laugh, “ if you go by the post- 
office looking that way they’ll think I’ve kid- 
napped you, and the town policeman will arrest 
me.” 


203 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Don’t you say ‘ kidnapped ’ and ‘ policeman ’ 
to me, David Stuart. That’s what those girls said 
I said, and — and perhaps I did, but I won’t have 
you twitting me about it. Stop this wheel. I’m 
going to get off and walk by myself.” 

In his astonishment David did as requested, and 
Carol started off, limping a little still, but not so 
painfully as before. 

“ See here, I’m going to walk with you, and you 
may as well make up your mind to it,” David said 
firmly, dancing around a bit in the effort to make 
his stride fit her short steps, and at last giving up 
the undertaking as hopeless. “ You’d better come 
right in with me and see mother and Jane. Oh, I 
forgot, mother is busy just now.” 

“ And Jane isn’t at home,” Carol amended with 
such bitterness of tone that David stared at her 
blankly. 

“ I bet she is,” he ventured a moment later. 
“ She was when I left.” 

“ Well, you’ll find she isn’t now. Anyway, I 
don’t want to see her,” and Carol, taking a hasty 
step as if anxious to escape the possibility of a 
meeting with Jane, turned her ankle again, and 
this time sat flatly on the sidewalk. The sharp 
pain forced her to clasp her knees tightly and drop 
her head on them for an instant. Then she held 
up a very white face, and with a courage which 
204 


Nothing But the Truth 

made David want to take off his hat to her, tried 
to smile. 

“ Oh, dear, that will mean a day or two with 
my foot up,” she said resignedly. “ Don’t look so 
scared, David. I’ve done it before. I wish mother 
was at home, though.” 

“ Don’t you try to bear your weight on that 
again,” ordered David, picking her up before she 
could protest. “ Hold on to the fence and stand 
on the other foot till I get the wheel ready. Now, 
on you go and don’t you dare get off until I say 
so.” 

To be ordered about and taken care of made the 
hurt of both mind and ankle easier to bear, and 
without further protest she sat meekly on the 
wheel while David rolled it to the end of the street 
and around the corner, and along that street until 
they came to the driveway of his own house. 

“ Now, listen,” he said compellingly, “ mother 
is having some ladies in to sew for the church, and 
I know you won’t want to go into the house. But 
your mother isn’t at home, and that ankle needs 
attention. I’m going to wheel you right into the 
barn, and have Susan Trot out here to look at it. 
She’s a cracker-jack about those things, and she’ll 
have the time of her life.” David paused and 
looked at his afflicted friend sternly. “ Now don’t 
try any funny business, and slide off and hurt 
205 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

your ankle ten times worse, because I’m going to 
have my own way/’ he ended, and started again 
toward the barn, the door of which stood hospi- 
tably open. 

Except for Sally, meditating in her stall, no 
one was in sight, and Carol sighed thankfully as 
she slipped off the wheel into a chair and put her 
foot on the box which David brought to her. 

“ Please don’t tell any one but Susan,” she said 
plaintively as he started toward the door. “ And, 
David, just ask her if I may have a cooky — or 
something ; I haven’t had a mite of lunch.” 

“ Thunderation ! ” exploded David. “ Don’t you 
move. We’ll be out in a jiffy.” 

For a few moments Carol sat very still, looking 
out through the doorway with eyes that scarcely 
saw what they rested upon. She was living over 
in her mind the whole wretched afternoon, and 
she pitied herself heartily. As she thought about 
it there came again the hot pressure of tears, and 
choking sobs, which for the moment kept her 
from hearing that some one was moving around 
in the harness room, and coughing a discreet warn- 
ing of his presence. 

At last a cough, so forced that it sounded like 
anything but that for which it was intended, 
startled her into silence, and she demanded quav- 
eringly, “ Who — who’s there? ” 

206 


Nothing But the Truth 

“ It’s only me,” answered Mr. Chope in mild 
apology, poking his head out from. the other room, 
and fixing his eyes on Sally as though she were 
the one he was addressing. “ It’s kinder lonesome 
in this old barn, and I thought some of you might 
feel better if you knew I was here.” 

“ I’m not lonesome.” Carol wept again because 
of the very kindliness of his tone. “ It’s — it’s — 
only — that I — can’t — stop crying.” 

“ Sho ! Got started, did you, and can’t turn it 
off? Well, now, you don’t want to tire out that 
tear machinery of yourn, becuz you may want to 
use it agin some day.” He was busying himself 
about Sally’s stall as he spoke, and had not once 
looked at his guest, who was mopping her eyes 
with David’s handkerchief, and trying hard to re- 
gain her self-control. 

Suddenly he came toward her. “ Here, let me 
take the hankerchif,” he said gently, and to Carol’s 
surprise his glance fell at once on her own small 
handkerchief, for which she had vainly searched, 
and which was now sticking out from her sleeve. 

“ This one’ll do fust-rate,” he continued, march- 
ing off with it and returning in an instant to lay 
it cold and wet in her hand. “ There, that’ll help 
those tears to stay whar they belong.” 

He went to the door of the barn and looked out 
while Carol gratefully pressed the comforting 
20 7 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

handkerchief to her hot forehead and eyes. “ It 
takes Davy some time to git a holt of Miss Trot,” 
he remarked casually. “ Mis' Stuart, she’s been 
havin’ ladies there sewin’ this afternoon, and Lady 
Jane and Miss Trot was juggling teacups, and 
gittin’ things to eat for them when I was last in 
the kitchen.” 

“ Not Jane ! ” Carol stopped wiping her eyes 
and spoke quite naturally. “ You must be mis- 
taken about Jane. I — I left her miles away just a 
little while ago.” 

“ Did you reely ? ” Mr. Chope turned to her 
with an expression which began with surprise, 
and ended in one of his wonderful smiles. 
“ You’re tryin’ to fool me,” he said genially, “ and 
jest for a minit’ I was like all the rest of ’em — 
didn’t know whether to believe you or not.” 

“ Oh,” groaned Carol in such a heartfelt way 
that the old man looked at her solicitously. 
“ Does — does every one think of me like that ? ” 

“ That’s jest somethin’ I’ve happened to hear 
’em say. It’s likely they don’t mean a thing by 
it.” The tear-wet eyes looking at him so re- 
proachfully, the pitiful, quivering chin, stirred 
the old man’s feelings to the utmost. He had 
never cared particularly for this girl before, but 
now he wanted nothing so much as to see her look 
happy again. 


208 


Nothing But the Truth 

“ Mr. Chope," began Carol in a small, pathetic 
voice, “ did you ever tell anything, and try to — to 
make it entertaining, and get so interested in it 
yourself that you almost forgot that it didn't — 
that it didn't happen just that way ? " 

Mr. Chope's face assumed an expression of 
startled perplexity, which the girl absorbed in her 
own troubles failed to notice. It seemed as though 
a new problem, unpleasant, and hard to wrestle 
with, had suddenly filled his thoughts. 

“ You see," Carol went on more easily, and as if 
it were the most tremendous relief to tell some one 
about it, “ the Ninepin girls have been initiating 
me this afternoon, and — and they made me feel as 
if I'd never told the truth in my life." She shud- 
dered a little at the recollection of the chanting 
chorus. She could hear it now. “ One of the 
stories they — they accused me of — they must have 
known about from Jane," she hurried on, her tone 
growing more positive. “ She was the only one 
who could know it wasn’t true, and she was there. 
I saw her." 

“ What kind of a story was it ? " 

Mr. Chope’s voice was so curiously insistent that 
Carol glanced at him in surprise. It seemed to 
her that he had lost some of his ruddy coloring 
and that his eyes looked troubled. 

“ It was something that partly happened to 
209 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

Jane,” she began, wondering all of a sudden why 
she should be making a confidant of this old man. 
“ I — I made it over a little. You see I'm always 
imagining adventures about myself, and some- 
times — I actually get to believing they're true.” 

Mr. Chope twisted his face into a smile that 
looked as if it hurt. “ And then when folks find out 
that you tell sich things, they jest don’t believe much 
of anythin’ you say ? Is that it ? ” he questioned 
delicately, but with a certain air of apprehension. 

“ I suppose so.” Carol hated to have the situa- 
tion made so plain to her. 

“ An’ jest now you don’t care so much becuz 
you’re pretty and delightsome, and the girls and 
boys want to be friends with you.” Mr. Chope 
had turned away and was gazing out through the 
barn-door with a little frown. “ Lady Jane and 
David, they set great store by you, but they’re so 
downright honest they won’t always feel so if they 
don’t ever know when you’re tellin’ the truth.” 

Carol shrank a little at that, then shrugged her 
shoulders impatiently. She was beginning to be 
tired of having this fault of hers taken so seriously, 
and she wished that David would come and take 
her home. 

“ Oh, well,” she began with something of her 

old, imperious way, “ I suppose ” but Mr. 

Chope interrupted her. 


210 


Nothing But the Truth 

“ You see it ain’t never been so clear to me as it 
is jest now,” he went on, with an eager appeal in 
his eyes and voice, “ that ef you talk that way 
part of the time it kinder takes away the value of 
the rest of what you say. Folks ain’t to blame ef 
they don’t know when to believe you. And so I 
think it would be an awful good plan ef you 
would make up your mind right here — this very 
minit’,” the persuasive, lingering way in which 
Mr. Chope made it seem the appointed place and 
time for any good resolve was not lost on his 
hearer, “ ef you would make up your mind to stop 
tellin’ things that ain’t so.” 

The old man paused for breath and looked anx- 
iously at the frowning, averted face of the girl in 
the chair. 

“ Of course you can’t expect to stop all at once,” 
he said with a wistful earnestness that dispelled 
Carol’s irritation, and made her wonder why queer 
old Mr. Chope was taking her sins so much to 
heart. “ Ef those stories do bust out sometimes 
why can’t you jest explain that it’s because your 
wonderful ’magination gits away from you once 
in a while? ” 

Carol looked up suddenly to meet the kind old 
eyes in which anxiety, sympathetic comprehension 
and a certain comradeship were mingled. All at 
once it occurred to her how she would feel if she 
21 1 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

had to explain her stories as he suggested to — to 
Rita Hastings, for instance, and, in spite of every- 
thing, her gay laugh rippled out. 

“ Mr. Chope, you actually make me want to do 
what you say — about stopping, I mean, — not ex- 
plaining/' she conceded unexpectedly. “ Any- 
way, I feel that way right this minute, and I hope, 

I do hope it will — last." She was almost happy 
again, and her eyes were dancing. For the mo- 
ment she had forgotten that she was an ill-treated 
young person with a distinct grievance against all 
her best friends. 

“ Shake hands on it, Mr. Chope," she went on, 
laying her own hand in the work-begrimed one 
stretched out to meet it. “ That makes it more 
binding, you know." 

“ Looks like a lily against my dark old fist, 
don’t it?" murmured Mr. Chope admiringly. 

II But I bet that’s the hand of a little lady that’s 
goin’ to make every one believe what she says." 

“ I — I hope so," said Carol, turning suddenly 
serious again. “ I’m honestly going to try." 

A sudden confusion of voices in the direction of 
the house came so startlingly close upon the an- 
nouncement of her resolve that Carol jumped and 
twitched the lame ankle, which had peacefully 
been trying to get better. 

“ That’s a shame," said Mr. Chope feelingly. 

212 


Nothing But the Truth 

“ I guess Davy’s managed to get hold of them girls 
now, and you’ll git somethin’ done for that poor 
little foot.” 

Carol could hear Jane’s voice raised in protest as 
they approached. “ Spinksy Stuart, you never 
told me Carol was out there, and that she’d hurt 
her ankle, and was starving. At least you didn’t 
make me understand.” 

There was an inarticulate murmur from David, 
and then the two came in sight, and into the barn, 
Jane, as usual, leading. 

“ Carol, you poor little thing.” Jane was 
touched at once by her friend’s white face and 
drooping attitude. “ I’m awfully sorry we’ve been 
so long, and here’s something to eat, and Susan 
is coming in a minute to fix up your ankle.” 

“ I guess you’ll think I’m a chump,” said David. 
“ When I got in there the girls were hustling be- 
tween the kitchen and the dining-room and I 
couldn’t make either one of them stop long enough 
to listen to me. And then, when I followed Mrs. 
Janes almost into the dining-room, she jammed a 
tray into my hands, and gave me a push that 
landed me right in where the ladies were. I had 
to pretend I went on purpose, and go around and 
collect cups. My, it was fierce ! ” 

“ And so were you,” said Jane, laughing at the 
recollection of her twin’s face. “ I didn’t know 
213 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

he was trying to tell me anything important, and 
I took a swift look at him first to see if he was 
respectable. Try some chocolate, Carol, and some 
of these sandwiches. They’re awfully good, if I 
did make ’em.” 

Carol put out her hand, but drew it back again 
quickly. Then, as Mr. Chope and David left the 
two girls to themselves, she looked at her friend 
appealingly. “ How — how long have you been at 
home, Jane ? ” she asked with an uncontrollable 
little shiver cutting into her words. 

“ All the afternoon. You remember I told you 
mother wanted me for something, and this was it. 
Why do you want to know?” 

Jane’s clear eyes met her own so frankly that 
doubt of her was impossible. Carol took a sand- 
wich and ate it hungrily. 

“ Didn’t you know — didn’t you have any word 
about the initiation ? ” she began again after a 
moment. 

“ What initiation ? ” Jane’s voice and face ex- 
pressed a dismay that could not be mistaken. 
“ Oh, Carol, you don’t mean that the Ninepins 
have taken you in and left me out ? But I don’t 
see how ! Why, it can’t be, for Serena and Peggy 
and Polly all left school early because Mrs. Reed 
was going to take them to the city this afternoon.” 

Like a flash the remembrance came to Carol 
214 


Nothing But the Truth 

that she had known that, too, but for some reason 
it seemed like last week, or a month ago, that she 
had heard it. 

“ And Molly’s aunt is here spending the day,” 
pursued Jane, “ and Marian Chester is at home 
with a sore throat. That leaves only Esther, and 
she wouldn’t get up an initiation all by herself. 
My, but you scared me ! ” 

Carol was staring at Jane in a queer, intent way 
which made the latter nervous. Then, quite as 
though she were talking to herself, she said 
grimly, “ It was Rita and her crowd, of course. 
No wonder I didn’t know the house when I never 
would go near any of them. Naturally they just 
guessed that last story wasn’t true, and I was goose 
enough to prove it. Well, p’raps it serves me right.” 

“What under the sun are you talking about, 
Carol Heath?” demanded Jane. “I’m too curi- 
ous for words.” 

Carol hesitated, and then shook her head signifi- 
cantly, for Susan Trot came hurrying in at that 
moment armed with bottles and bandages. 

“ I thought I’d never git here,” she began apolo- 
getically. “ Your ma wanted me to do something 
for the ladies, and I didn’t have a chance to ex- 
plain that I had a patient waiting for me.” She 
said the last with a glint of the eye at Jane, as if 
to remind her of their delightful understanding. 

215 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Susan, you certainly have the nicest touch,” 
Carol said gratefully. “ That begins to feel better 
already.” At that moment she wanted nothing 
so much as to be taken care of, and say pleasant 
things, and be sure that people liked her. 

“ You’d ought not to set that foot on the ground 
again to-night,” decreed Miss Trot as she bathed 
and bandaged in an impressively expert manner. 
“ There ! Now I’ll go and have Mr. Chope har- 
ness up Sally.” 

But failing to find Mr. Chope, and meeting 
David and Rob in the course of her search, another 
plan was proposed and the two boys came with a 
chair to bear their afflicted friend to her home. 

“ I’m afraid you’ll drop me. I’m so heavy,” 
said Carol, squirming a little in her anxiety. 

“ Heavy ! By my halidom, maiden ” — Rob 
had torn himself away from a Waverley novel to 
come over to see David — “ you’re but a feather- 
weight for sturdy varlets like us.” 

“ Before I’d be called a varlet, Spinksy,” taunted 
Jane, who as one of the relief party was dancing 
along in front, and walking backward half the 
time. 

The boys rested once or twice before they finally 
set Carol down in front of the fireplace in the 
library, and helped her slip into a capacious arm- 
chair. 


216 


Nothing But the Truth 

“ Just touch a match to the fire, please, David,” 
she urged. “ It isn’t really cold enough to have 
it, but it looks so cheerful. Jane, there’s a box 
of candy up in my room, and you’ve all got to 
stay till mother comes home.” 

Jane ran up-stairs for the candy and was back 
again in a moment. “ I can’t stay,” she said 
breathlessly. “ I told Susan not to begin on all 
those dishes, because I’d be back and wipe them 
for her.” 

“ Well, you’ve got to stay a few minutes. The 
fire might go out, or a spark may fly on the rug, 
and it would hurt my ankle to have to jump,” 
pleaded Carol artfully. “ If you’ll only stay,” 
there was a sudden light in the dark eyes, a hint 
of color in the pale cheeks, “ I’ll tell you what 
happened to me this afternoon.” 

“ I promised,” faltered Jane, with an eye on her 
twin. “ I ought not to stay.” 

“ Probably some one else will help Miss Trot,” 
observed David, so unexpectedly forsaking his 
post of guide and counselor, that the very shock 
of it strengthened his sister in the knowledge of 
what she should do. 

“ Jane, you can stay ten minutes and then run 
all the way,” said Carol, and added surprisingly, 
“ I won’t let any of the Stuart family break a 
promise, but you’ve got to hear about this af- 
217 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

ternoon. It has just struck me how funny it 
was.” 

There never was any doubt that she could make 
anything seem amusing if she tried, though it 
wasn't easy to keep the funny side uppermost when, 
underneath everything, an insistent little voice 
kept saying, “ Tell it just as it happened, but don't 
let them think you mind the least little bit.” 

“ There were all those solemn things in sheets, 
and there was poor little Carol just quaking,” she 
ended with her mirthful laugh. “ And now 
they’re probably crunching my perfectly good 
home-made candy and — and making fun of me. 
Ugh ! I can’t bear them.” The last words came 
out with a force that took the sparkle from her 
eyes and made the corners of her mouth droop 
forlornly. 

“ Now, please don’t tell any one I’ve told you,” 
she entreated with another quick change of mood. 
“ I’m going to behave to them as if it had never 
happened, and I’m not going to tell a single soul. 
That’ll spoil part of their fun, anyway.” 

“ Of course it will,” said Jane, who had been 
listening with her eyes very big and her whole 
mind intent on the narrative. “And we won’t 
tell a soul,” she added, getting up from the rug, 
and pausing to push in a bit of charred wood 
which threatened to drop. “ I think those girls 
218 


Nothing But the Truth 

are the meanest ever. It wasn’t their place to do 

anything about it, if you don’t always ” She 

stopped suddenly and the color flew into hex 
cheeks. “ Well, anyway, we all know that you 
don’t half expect ” 

“ Oh, come on, Mrs. Janes. Those dishes are 
waiting,” interrupted David sharply. It was rough 
on a girl to have a thing of that kind rubbed in 
more than once a day, he was telling himself. 

“ Wasn’t that perfectly dreadful of me?” sighed 
Jane, as the three walked down the driveway to- 
gether. “ I was so thankful to have you cut in, 
Davy. There’s no knowing what I might have 
said.” 

There was no answer from her twin, but Rob 
said soberly, “ Girls can take it out of each other 
everlastingly when they want to, can’t they ? 
And the worst of it is that Carol’s just going to 
hate them and pity herself. Probably she’ll never 
know the least little bit in the world that for once 
in their lives they did her a good turn.” 

“ Don’t you be too sure.” David felt that his 
experience with a twin had given him side-lights 
on a girl’s feelings that Rob never could have. 
Besides, he had been the last to leave the room, 
and he had seen Carol’s face when she thought she 
was alone. 


219 


CHAPTER XII 


THE ENCHANTED PRINCESS 

Jane had to decide by Friday morning whether 
she would or would not go to see Mary Brown, and 
though, in the intervening two days, she went 
through the process of making up her mind a 
dozen times, underneath it all she knew perfectly 
well what her final decision would be. 

“ It’s really dreadful, mumsey, to belong to such 
a strong-minded family,” she said as she slipped 
into her mother’s room to kiss her good-bye before 
departing for school that morning. “ Now, here it 
is a perfectly glorious out-of-door Friday, and we 
can’t possibly have any more of ’em, and you 
haven’t tried to persuade me to give up the walk, 
and Spinksy hasn’t peeped on the subject, and yet 
if I shouldn’t go to see Mary Brown I know ” 

“Know what, darling?” asked Mrs. Stuart as 
her daughter’s rapid utterance came to an end for 
lack of breath. 

“ That you’d both think I was a 1 quitter,’ ” an- 
nounced Jane. “Oh, yes’m, that’s slang,” she 
went on before her mother could put in a word, 
“ but you ought to allow me some special privilege 
220 


The Enchanted Princess 


this morning, when I’ve made up my mind to try 
to live up to you and my twin. It would be so 
much easier for me if you’d only say , 4 Now, Jane, 
you must do just what the doctor asks you or I 
shall put you in the closet,’ or something like that. 
It’s the way you make me responsible for myself 
that worries me.” 

Mother laughed just as her daughter knew she 
would. “ You absurd child,” she said softly, reach- 
ing up to pull Jane down into her lap ; “ who is 
going to cultivate your sense of responsibility if 
your mother doesn’t? I’m sorry you’ve got to 
lose the walk, but you can come over to the little 
house afterward. And I do want you to help that 
poor girl. 

“ You remember, Janey,” she added as Jane gave 
her a final hug and rose to her feet, “ how you felt 
when you first came to Belhaven. And you 
haven’t forgotten that you and Davy and I agreed 
that service counts for most in life after all.” 

“ Why, so we did,” assented Jane. “ Mumsey, 
it’s just like marching with the band playing when 
I talk to you. You make me want to get up and 
do things. And service is what my pretty girl at 
the concert believed in, and — and her Fritz, and 
the Marburgs. There’s a nice crowd of us, isn’t 
there, mother darling? I’m quite proud of myself 
to think I belong.” 


221 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

For a moment she gazed thoughtfully out of the 
window. “ The trouble is,” she said half dolefully, 
“ that when I want to carry out those ideas I don’t 
seem to have any luck at all. I’ve never really 
dared even to try to be serviceable since the day I 
lost the heirloom.” The sigh with which she 
ended was heartfelt, if a trifle exaggerated, and her 
eyes were less cheerful. 

“ Having four lessons a week with Susan is 
something in the way of service, Janey,” suggested 
mother. “ You haven’t missed a lesson yet, and 
many times it hasn’t been easy for you.” 

“ Why, mother, how did you know ? I didn’t 
suppose any one had noticed that.” Jane was 
radiant again. “ Well, I guess it’s my 1 serve ’ to 
Mary Brown all right, and I’m just everlastingly 
going to get it over the net and into the court,” 
and, quite pleased with this metaphorical way of 
treating the subject, she started for school. 

On her way she stopped to tell Dr. Reed that 
she would go, and his hearty gratitude made her 
ashamed to think she had been so slow in grant- 
ing his request. 

“ You’re a trump, Miss Jane Stuart ; as much of 
a one as Polly thinks you are, which is saying a 
great deal.” He paused for a moment and looked 
at her reflectively. “ Don’t worry about what 
you’re going to say or do,” he went on after a mo- 
222 


The Enchanted Princess 

raent. “ Only ” — lie hesitated so long that ex- 
pectancy grew in Jane’s eyes — “ well, if I were you 
I shouldn’t ask her any questions about her family 
or — or anything of that kind. Just let her tell 
you what she wants to tell, and you can describe 
the Belhaven girls and boys and their good times.” 

“ All right, Dr. Reed. When it comes my turn 
to talk I’ll make ’em all seem so entrancing that 
she’ll want to see the others instead of me next 
time,” answered Jane with her eyes dancing mis- 
chievously. “ But I shall be sure to say something 
I ought not to say,” she added. 

“ Don’t feel troubled if you do. Perhaps it will 
help the poor child to be stirred up a bit. And, if 
you can, get her interested in what the young folks 
are doing.” 

Jane went on her way to school with her mind 
full of what the doctor had said. Something of her 
first interest in the girl was coming back, and it 
made the whole thing seem easier now that her 
curiosity was again aroused. “ I wonder why her 
family isn’t to be mentioned,” she said to herself. 
“ Perhaps — perhaps her father was in a bank and 
was dishonest.” Which, from Jane’s point of view, 
was one of the most dreadful things she could 
suspect. 

The bracing, sunshiny morning, the talks with 
mother and Dr. Reed, her own high resolves had 
223 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

put Jane into an exalted frame of mind in which 
her usual interest in her fellow-beings was increased 
by a vague desire to push the world along a little 
in the way she thought it ought to go. 

Therefore, when Stanley Oliver came running 
out of his house, and she saw just ahead of her a 
group of the Dallas Street boys, whom Molly dis- 
liked, she made up her mind promptly to detain 
Molly’s brother if she possibly could. Besides, 
mother had told her that she must try to be 
pleasant to Stanley because he so much needed all 
that the nice girls and boys could do for him. 

“ Oh, Stan,” she said in her friendliest manner 
as he ran down the walk, and halted involuntarily 
to avoid running into her, “ you’ve come just in 
time to save me from walking to school alone. I 
thought I was going to spoil my record.” 

Stanley looked decidedly cross and unresponsive, 
but as Jane unconsciously shifted her books from 
one arm to the other he took them from her, and 
fell into step. 

“ I’ve been trying for days to give you a message 
from mother,” Jane hurried on, thanking her 
lucky stars for this same message which had popped 
into her memory just in the nick of time. “ Mother 
told me to tell you that she thinks you’re a perfect 
wonder about sewing-machines. Hers has worked 
like a charm since you fixed it the last time.” 

224 


The Enchanted Princess 

“ That was easy. Nothing of that kind ever 
feazes me.” Stanley’s manner was sullen, but 
held enough of its customary importance to shake 
Jane’s helpful spirit a little. She held on to her- 
self stoutly, however, and tried to think of some- 
thing interesting to say, wondering, meanwhile, 
why this boy, really six months older, should 
always seem to her younger than herself. 

“When’s the new teacher coming?” Stanley 
asked gloomily, after a moment’s silence. “ Gee 
whiz 1 I hate to see old Mr. Wells turned out just 
to make room for that young fellow.” 

Jane knew that he had persisted in this view of 
the case in spite of the fact that the older teacher 
couldn’t be persuaded not to resign. She also 
knew that Stanley had been very much in the 
habit of sliding out of his lessons with Mr. Wells 
whenever he could manage it, and it wasn’t sur- 
prising that he regretted his departure. Far be it 
from her, however, to suggest anything of that 
kind on a morning like this. 

“ Mr. Prescott’s coming after the Thanksgiving 
vacation,” she said brightly. “Rob says that if 
Belhaven likes him and he likes the town he’s go- 
ing to bring his family here later.” 

“ Hope he doesn’t. He got in wrong with me, 
all right, and I shan’t forget it.” 

“ Oh, Stauley, how silly. It makes you seem 
225 


jane Stuart’s Chum 

like a perfect baby to say that. Mr. Prescott 
wasn’t trying to spy on us. He was just — why, 
just entering into the fun that night.” For the 
moment Jane was off guard, and the words poured 
out with her usual impetuosity. Then the spirit 
of the morning enfolded her again, and her voice 
lost its scornful tone. “ I believe you’re going to 
like him some time,” she said, and then with a 
quick change to what she hoped would be a safe 
subject, “ Where’s Molly? I haven’t seen her any- 
where this morning.” 

“ I wish I hadn’t. She’s made me everlast- 
ingly mad,” admitted Stan sulkily. “ She teased 
father into saying that I can’t go to the city with 
the boys next Wednesday. I was hurrying to 
catch up and tell them when I ran into you.” 

“ Oh, those boys.” Stanley’s glance had indi- 
cated the Dallas Street boys who were going up 
the schoolliouse steps at that moment, and Jane 
knew that her tone and manner said much that 
she would have been wiser to keep back. 

“ Yes, those boys,” mimicked Stanley snap- 
pishly. “ Oh, I know they’re not quite so high- 
toned as Rob and David and — and — Donald, but 
they’ve got some go in them, and I like them.” 

There was a covert sneer in his tone which made 
Jane long to talk back. Fortunately for her they 
were almost at the door of the high school, and 
226 


The Enchanted Princess 

she managed to stifle the words that wanted to 
come, and to thank him for carrying her books. 
Then she went thoughtfully up the stairs with her 
cheeks burning, her mind less peaceful than it had 
been. 

It was a good morning, nevertheless. Jane’s 
lessons went unusually well, and, when the whole 
school assembled for the Friday “ last hour,” her 
latest theme was unexpectedly read aloud by the 
teacher in charge, and commended as a very 
praiseworthy performance. Jane glowed with 
pleasure over that. She knew mother would be 
pleased, and she could see her twin giving her a 
shy glance of approval from across the big as- 
sembly room. 

In spite of this, however, she felt her high spirits 
sag a little when she was doing her hair over be- 
fore starting to see Mary Brown. 

“ I’m a flat failure when I try to help people,” 
she said 10 herself meekly as she hesitated between 
a brown ribbon and a green one, and finally chose 
the latter. “ I s’pose Stan is still wondering why 
I absolutely forced him to walk with me this 
morning.” This last thought made her laugh a 
little, and she felt better. 

She wouldn’t consciously try to make things 
easier for Mary Brown or Dr. Reed, her mind ran 
on. She would go to the bayberry-candle houso 
227 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

as if she were storming an enchanted castle where 
a beautiful princess awaited release. “ Mary 
Brown would make a dandy princess, wouldn’t 
she ? ” SKe was talking to the bright face in the 
mirror as though it belonged to some one else, and 
it smiled back at her at the idea of turning poor 
mournful Mary Brown into anything beautiful or 
enchanted. “ You know you never could go ad- 
venturing that way without Spinksy, and }mu’re 
getting pretty old for imagining things like that,” 
she ended, giving the green bow a last little twitch, 
and going to wash her hands. 

Nevertheless it was in an absurdly youthful 
state of mind that Jane left the house, and meet- 
ing Rob just outside found him surprisingly re- 
sponsive to her fancies. 

“ I didn’t know that you could imagine things 
like that,” she said as after wonderful and perilous 
adventures they reached the neighborhood of the 
house to which Jane was going. “ I thought 
Spinksy was the only boy on earth who would 
play that way, and he wouldn’t do it with any 
one but me.” 

Rob laughed and looked a little red and con- 
scious. “ Well, I can’t say I’m in the habit nowa- 
days of slaying wild animals and escaping my 
enemies,” he confessed somewhat shamefacedly, 
“ but I used to be great for it when I was a kid. 

228 


The Enchanted Princess 

And of course when I’m with a child I have to 
play the way she likes.” 

“ Of course,” answered Jane, purposely disap- 
pointing him by taking this with perfect calmness. 
“ Always remember that when you play with me, 
please. And now I’m Jane Stuart going to see 
Mary Brown, and I’m scared stiff.” 

She ended with a sudden little shiver which 
was more than half real, and Rob couldn’t help 
laughing at her doleful face. 

“ Brace up, Lady Jane,” he said, lowering his 
voice mysteriously. “ Now that you’ve got my 
imagination started I more than half believe that 
she is an enchanted princess, and that it’s up to 
you to break the spell. You have my blessing, 
anyway. Are you coming over to the House in 
the Woods later ? ” 

“ Yes, if I don’t stay too long here. It’s a per- 
fectly glorious day for a walk, isn’t it?” 

There was an unconsciously wistful note in 
Jane’s voice as she said the last words that made 
Rob wish that Mary Brown were miles away. 
“ Oh, well, there’ll be lots of other walks,” he said 
hastily. “ And it isn’t every one who can visit an 
E. P. ! ” 

“ What’s that? Oh, I know — enchanted prin- 
cess, of course. Well, see you later — perhaps. If 
any one brings marshmallows, do save me some. 

229 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

Now— one, two, three— go ! ” and Jane shot up the 
path as though propelled by sojiie outward force. 

“ Who would ever have thought that Rob would 
like an imagination game ? ” she was saying to 
herself as she rang the door-bell. “ I must tell 
Spinksy that.” 

The old-fashioned bell jangled under Jane’s 
vigorous grasp, and, to her fancy, seemed to have 
harshly broken the silence which encompassed the 
house. “ Mercy ! I hope she won’t think I’m too 
violent,” she thought apprehensively, and then 
straightened herself to meet the person whom she 
heard approaching. 

It was a stout girl, with a pleasant, rather stupid 
face, who opened the door and admitted Jane into 
a small hall, not very light, from which the stairs 
ascended abruptly. 

“ You can go right up,” she said without waiting 
for Jane to speak. “ She’s expectin’ you.” And 
then, to Jane’s consternation, she turned her back 
and vanished into a room on the right of the hall, 
closing the door behind her. A second later the 
heavy shutting of another door proclaimed a still 
farther flight, and Jane stood helpless for a moment, 
wondering whether she should pursue the girl, or 
venture up-stairs without further direction. 

Then the funny side of it struck her. “ I’d give 
anything if Rob could see me now,” she thought 
230 


The Enchanted Princess 


“ It's such a joke on me. Well, I’ve got to hunt 
for the princess, and I only hope I shan’t meet one 
of Mr. Chope’s ‘ double-header dragons ’ before I 
find her.” 

Jane went softly up the steep stairs which would 
creak in spite of her best efforts, but, to her per- 
plexity, their warning was unheeded and the two 
doors in the upper hall remained closed. 

She waited a moment, wondering whimsically 
whether in enchanted palaces it was proper to look 
through the keyholes, or put one’s ear against the 
door. Then she tried the trusty formula which 
had so often served her. 

“ My mother tells me to take this one,” she said 
in her mind, emphasizing the words with a slender 
finger and ending with the door on the left. 
Somehow, even the word mother seemed to 
illumine the situation a little, and Jane began to 
feel quite in the spirit for adventure, and rather 
glad, on the whole, that she didn’t know which 
room enclosed the princess. 

She knocked softly on the left-hand door, behind 
which silence brooded, and waited patiently for 
what seemed to her a long time. Then she 
knocked again, a little louder. 

This time there was a short, trotting step across 
the floor, and the door opened a crack to disclose 
the cheerful, pink and white face of the old lady 

231 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

whose relationship to Mary Brown Jane had not 
yet been able to determine. She was blinking as 
though suddenly roused from a nap, and for an 
instant did not recognize Jane. Then her face 
beamed, and the door was opened wide. 

“Why, it’s my * sunshine girl/” she said, 
putting out both her hands. “ I didn’t know you 
were the one who was coming to see Mary. Oh, 
dear, I wish to goodness I could ask you to step 
right in and set down, but Mary’s waitin’, and she 
gave me to understand that she wanted you all to 
herself.” 

The old lady gazed at her with such longing in 
her blue eyes, and held the door open so hospitably, 
that Jane could hardly resist the temptation to 
make her call here instead of at the other end of 
the hall. 

“ What a lovely bright room,” she said involun- 
tarily, noticing how the afternoon sunlight poured 
in at the windows, lighting up a gilded bird-cage, 
and falling in rainbow patches on one of the 
walls. 

“ That’s my chopped-up rainbow,” explained the 
old lady following Jane’s glance. “ I like to think 
it’s kind of a special Providence, granted to me 
because I’m so set on light and color, but really, I 
know ” — her bright eyes twinkled humorously, 
and Jane heard again the soft laugh which made 
232 


The Enchanted Princess 


her smile in sympathy — “I know that it comes 
from them old glass candlesticks. 

“ But I mustn’t keep you here a minute,” she 
went on, looking beyond Jane toward the door 
opposite her own. “ Mary’ll hear us, and I don’t 
want her to be put out with you before you get 
in there. You knock on the door, and she’ll an- 
swer.” 

The old lady laid an appealing hand on her arm 
as Jane turned away. “ You’ll be real patient 
with her, won’t you, dearie ? ” she said anxiously. 
“ Jest remember that’s she a poor child that’s had 
altogether too many trials for one of her age. And 
then, too ” — she hesitated, and the blue eyes grew 
very soft and full of pity — “ perhaps the right sort 
of a disposition wasn’t given to her in the first 
place.” 

Jane nodded sympathetically, but her mind was 
busy with wild speculation as she crossed the hall 
and knocked on the right-hand door. What sort 
of trials, she wondered, and was the girl really 
poor, and what under the sun should she, herself, 
say first ? 

When she opened the door in response to a faint 
“ Come in,” her own embarrassment was almost for- 
gotten in the immediate certainty that the girl 
awaiting her was much more shy than she herself. 
The room seemed close and dark in comparison 
2 33 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

with the air and brightness of out-of-doors, but in 
spite of the dimness Jane could see that the girl 
on the couch was gazing at her with strange in- 
ten tness, and that her breath was coming and go- 
ing quickly. 

“ I believe you’re almost as scared as I am,” 
Jane said, narrowly missing a collision with a foot- 
stool in her progress across the room, and in her 
effort to avoid it running violently into a chair. 

“ Isn’t it silly ? ” By this time she was beside 
the couch, and had taken the limp hand the girl 
half extended to her. 

“ I suppose it is,” Mary Brown answered with so 
unsuccessful an attempt at a smile that Jane hardly 
knew whether it was meant for one. 11 But I can’t 
help it. Can you ? ” 

“ I’m not a bit scared now. You don’t look 
dangerous. At least in this light you don’t. And 
I shouldn’t think you could see how really terrible 
I am.” Jane ended with a jolly laugh. She knew 
she was talking nonsense, but she couldn’t think 
of anything else to say, and along with the other 
feelings of the afternoon had come the determina- 
tion to get on with this girl in some way. 

“ It is dark here. Perhaps — would you mind 
putting up one of the shades? ” 

Thankful even for this concession, Jane has- 
tened to comply, and lingered a moment involun- 
234 


The Enchanted Princess 

tarily, for two of the Snowshoe Sisters were going 
by on their way to the House in the Woods. “ It’s 
perfectly glorious out-of-doors,” she said, turning 
back to the couch to find the girl’s eyes fixed on 
her in the same intent way. “ If you were only 
well I’d like to take you for a walk.” Then, as a 
little commotion among the wrappings at the end 
of the couch turned her gaze in that direction, she 
went on rapturously, “ Why, there’s your darling 
dog ! It was so dark I didn’t see him before.” 

In response to Jane’s petting touch the tiny 
creature waked, ran toward her, and did his ex- 
cited best to kiss her with his small pink tongue. 
Mary Brown snatched him jealously and hugged 
him until he gave a sharp, protesting bark. 

“ Oh, darling ! Did I hurt him ? ” she cried 
with a warmth of which Jane would not have be- 
lieved her capable. “ Peter, you shan’t love any 
one as much as you do me. He’s the only thing 
in the world that really likes me.” She cuddled 
the small creature under her arm, and he went off 
to sleep again. 

“ You told me that when I met you before, but 
I think your grand — your aunt — seems very fond 
of you,” ventured Jane, feeling that the conversa- 
tional road was beset with difficulties. 

“ Oh, Brownie. Well, perhaps she does. She 
must a little or she’d never be willing to have me 
235 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

live with her. She’s not obliged to, you know. 
She isn’t my aunt or my grandmother. She’s 
just ‘ dear Miss Brown.’ ” There was again a half 
smile on the girl’s face as she brought out the 
plain little name with the affectionate adjective 
before it. 

“ I thought — because your names were the same 
— that she must be your aunt,” Jane faltered, try- 
ing to rid herself of the fatal impulse to talk 
about family. 

Mary Brown gave her a quick glance that was 
almost defiant. “ I can’t see that it proves any- 
thing if our names are alike,” she said sharply, 
and then as if a little ashamed, “ there might be 
plenty of Stuarts, I suppose, who wouldn’t be any 
relation to you.” 

“ Of course,” Jane conceded hastily, glad to be 
on safe ground again. She was thankful that she 
needn’t be afraid to talk about her own family as 
much as she pleased. “ Davy and I haven’t even 
one own cousin. But our second or — or third 
step-cousin, we never can decide just what he really 
is, seems almost like a brother to us. I wonder if 
you have ever seen him go by here.” 

“ I don’t know. The tall boy who looks so 
much like you is your brother, isn’t he? ” 

“ My twin,” corrected Jane with modest pride. 

“ And your mother is the little lady. I can’t 
236 


The Enchanted Princess 


see much of her because the girls and boys all 
crowd around her.” 

“ She is. But how did you know so much 
about us ? ” 

Mary Brown actually laughed a little at Jane’s 
wide-eyed astonishment. “ Brownie told me. 
She’s made friends with the old man who does 
your garden work.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Chope. Why, he never told me that 
he knew her.” Jane was manifestly surprised at 
this news about Mr. Chope, who had been more 
enterprising than any one had suspected. 

“ I wonder if you know who any of the others 
are,” she went on with a sudden inspiration, and, 
without waiting for an answer, launched boldly 
into an attempt to identify the different girls and 
boys of the Snowshoe Club, and tell something of 
their good times. 

“ I’m quite sure I know which one she is,” said 
the other girl, eagerly interrupting Jane’s descrip- 
tion of Carol. “ She’s the small, pretty, dark- 
haired girl who always walks as though her shoes 
were too thin.” 

Jane gasped a little at this, but had to laugh, 
for Carol could never be persuaded to wear proper 
shoes when she went for a country walk. 

“ That’s the very one. She was my first girl 
friend in Belhaven, and we got acquainted one 
237 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

stormy afternoon when it seemed to me I should 
just give up if I couldn’t have a girl to chum 
with. Don’t you feel that way sometimes ? ” 

“ I’ve never had girls to chum with. I’ve never 
been to school. I didn’t even know girls and 
boys could have such good times together.” 
Mary Brown ended with a forlorn sigh, and 
looked gloomily at Jane, whose sympathy re- 
sponded at once to so direful a state of affairs as 
this. 

“ Never been to school and had fun with other 
girls ? How perfectly dreadful ! Do get well 
right away and come out and play with us. And 
please let me bring some of the girls in to see 
you.” Jane’s words poured out with her usual 
impetuosity, but before she ended she could see 
that the girl on the sofa was shrinking deeper 
into the cushions, and that the distressed look had 
come back into her eyes. 

“ Oh, I couldn’t — I couldn’t possibly,” she said 
in a stifled voice. “ It was all I could do to make 

up my mind to see ” She stopped suddenly 

and a dull color crept into her cheeks. “ Oh, I 
ought not to have said that when you have been 
so nice to me. And you must have hated me be- 
cause I was so horrid about Peter that night you 
found him.” 

“ I’ve never thought of that once this afternoon,” 

23 s 



“now, look at me” 


























.• * 
















































The Enchanted Princess 


Jane said with convincing honesty. “ That’s all 
over now, and we’ll begin from to-day. Are you 
going to let me come again soon ? ” Earlier in 
the day Jane would not have believed that she 
could be asking this question so cheerfully, but, 
by this time, her courage had risen with the diffi- 
culties of the situation. 

“ Do you mean — do you really mean that you 
want to come again ? ” the other girl asked so 
wistfully that all Jane’s generous instincts re- 
sponded instantly. 

“ Wait. Don’t tell me yet,” the girl went on 
quickly. “ Please pull up the other shades — up 
to the top of the window.” She waited until Jane 
had done as she asked, then said anxiously, 
“ Now, look at me, and see if you still want to 
come again.” 

Jane gazed half fearfully. She didn’t know 
what she expected to see, but to her great relief 
she couldn’t find anything which should make 
this girl afraid to be looked at. It was not a par- 
ticularly attractive face, because it looked un- 
healthy and sad, but all that could be changed, 
Jane told herself wisely. 

“ I don’t know what you mean, or whether 
you’re making fun of me,” she said at last, and at 
sight of her satisfying smile the other face grew a 
bit more cheerful. “ But anyway, I like you 
239 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

better with the shades up, so please never have 
’em down when I’m here. And I’ll surely come 
again soon if you want me.” 

Before the other girl had a chance to reply there 
was a sudden knock at the door, and the maid 
whom Jane had seen before announced that Miss 
Jane Stuart’s mother had sent for her. 

“ I must go,” said Jane, jumping up so suddenly 
that she startled Peter, who staggered to his feet 
with a sharp bark, and looked around for enemies. 

“ Good-bye, you darling Peter. Don’t forget 
that you and I are friends. Good-bye, Mary.” 
Jane brought out the name with a little difficulty. 
For some reason “ Mary Brown ” didn’t seem to 
fit this strange, sad-looking girl at all. “ Please 
remember that I’m your first Belhaven friend. 
And just as soon as you will I want you to get ac- 
quainted with my family, and Polly, and Serena 
and the others.” 

For an instant the girl’s two thin hands held 
Jane’s tightly. “ I shall be satisfied with just one 
friend, if it’s you. And I really believe you mean 
it,” she said with a slow brightening of her somber 
eyes. “ But I shan’t keep asking you to* come,” 
she went on hastily. “ I shall know that if you 
really like me you’ll want to come.” 

There was a wistful ness in her voice and ex- 
pression which made Jane uncomfortable. “ Oh, 
240 


The Enchanted Princess 


of course, I’m coming,” she answered quickly, but 
as she left the room she couldn’t help making up 
a little face. “ There I am again,” she said to 
herself ruefully, “ left on my own responsibility. 
It’s really worse than ever,” and then she ran 
down the narrow stairs to find Rob in the hall 
being entertained with cookies and conversation 
by Miss Brown. 

“ Boys always did like my cookies,” announced 
the latter with great satisfaction. “ I didn’t know 
as they’d suit the Belhaven taste, though.” Then 
as she held the plate out to Jane, “ It was awful 
kind of you to come,” she said with some anxiety 
in her voice. “ I know it ain’t very pleasant for a 
young thing like you to stay in a dark room, but 
I do hope if you can manage it you’ll come again 
soon.” 

“ The next time the shades won’t be down,” Jane 
exulted, “ and I really think she likes me a little bit. 
These cookies are great. I must get you to give 
me your recipe for them. Will you ? ” 

“ My dear, if you’ll help me make Mary happier 
I’ll bake a barrel of cookies for you,” said the 
old lady, with tears in her bright eyes. “ I’m 
bound ” 

“ So am I. Oh, I beg your pardon for interrupt- 
ing, but I’m sure we mean the same thing, and 

I’ll do my very ” Jane’s rapid speech came 

241 


Jane Stuart's Chum 

to an end with a little gasp as she made a heroic 
effort to steer a cooky crumb in the proper direc- 
tion. Suddenly her hand met that of “ dear Miss 
Brown ” in a friendly clasp. “ We understand, 
don’t we ? ” she said in a choked voice. 

“ Your mother told me I might come and get 
you,” explained Rob as they started toward the 
woods. “ We all thought you’d stayed too long 
for a first call. And there are exactly four girls 
and three boys waiting to toast marshmallows for 
you.” 

“ My, but that sounds good,” sighed Jane. “ Will 
you please make everything very light and bright, 
and say all the funny foolish things you can, and 
all laugh and laugh ? ” 

“ Was it so bad as that? Didn’t you break the 
spell at all ? ” 

“ Well, perhaps.” Jane, happily conscious now 
that mother and David and a good time awaited 
her, was willing to concede something. “ It’s — 
it’s a very strong spell, Rob, but I believe — I really 
do believe I cracked it.” 


242 


CHAPTER XIII 


ENTER THE CONCERT GIRL 

During the next three weeks several important 
entries were made in Jane’s little diary. On the 
twenty-eighth of November she wrote : 

“ Beautiful day. First German lesson from 
Mr. Prescott. I never can learn to pronounce 
4 ch’ the way he does.” 

A week later came the news : 

“ Weather horrid. Went to see Mary Brown, 
and both shades were up. She let Peter sit 
with me for some time. The crack widens ! ” 

Later still : 

“Mr. Prescott has rented the little house near 
us. He is going to have a school glee club. 
When his sister comes she will play for us. 
Stanley won’t be in anything that Mr. Prescott 
gets up. Goosander ! Molly feels dreadfully 
about it. Mary went to walk with me, but I 
had to promise to go where we wouldn’t be 
likely to see people. She’s really very interest- 
ing sometimes.” 

At last, one Friday afternoon, about ten days be- 
243 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

fore Christmas, the long-looked-for initiation of 
Jane and Carol into the Ninepin Club took place, 
and ended with piping hot chocolate at the House 
in the Woods. Mrs. Stuart was there with her 
sewing, and two or three of the boys strolled in 
with a cheerful pretense of not knowing that a 
feast was in progress, and required to be warmly 
urged before consenting to stay. 

“ What under the sun were you doing, Jane, 
when I met you on Center Street about two hours 
ago ? ” demanded Donald, offering his cousin wafers 
to go with her chocolate. She and Carol as the 
guests of honor were seated on the roomy couch, 
and though both looked weary, there was an air of 
satisfaction, even of triumph, about them. 

“ Two hours ago?” Jane questioned vaguely, 
lifting her eyes from the foam-heaped cup. “ Two 
hours ago? I’m sorry, Don, but meeting you 
didn’t make the slightest impression on me. What 
did I seem to be doing ? I’ve done so many ridic- 
ulous things this afternoon.” 

“ You were carrying — ” 

Jane’s hearty laugh stopped Donald midway. 
“ I was carrying Millicent Isabel to Dr. Reed to 
have her pulse and temperature taken,” she ex- 
plained. “ That was Serena’s old doll, and she’s 
almost as big as Judy. The doctor says she’s in a 
dreadful condition. 


244 


Enter the Concert Girl 


“ Before that,” she continued, “ Carol and I 
spent ages doing foolish things, and then they 
sent me to the Gift Shop to inquire if they kept 
stove-blacking. I didn’t mind that, but I didn’t 
like having to ask at the post-office if I could rent 
a yeast-cake,” she ended pensively. 

“ That wasn’t half so bad as making me go to 
the provision-store and ask if I could buy a rabbit 
to make a Welsh rarebit with,” complained Carol. 
“ It sounded dreadfully ignorant.” 

“ Don’t you care,” said David, taking her cup to 
be filled again. “ Every one nowadays knows 
what initiations are.” 

“ Anyway, I’m glad it’s over.” In Carol’s sigh 
there was a memory of a past experience which 
had not yet ceased to rankle. True to her resolve 
she had treated Rita Hastings and the other girls 
she suspected as though nothing had happened to 
change the capricious acquaintanceship she had 
always accorded them. As the story leaked out, 
she had taken the teasing which followed with such 
apparent good-humor that no one cared to keep it 
up for long. But underneath everything, two de- 
sires struggled within her ; one the wish to get 
even ; the other, a sometimes fervent, sometimes 
faint idea that to be dependable would be worth 
working for. 

“ Now there are eight little Ninepins,” said 
245 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

Molly, “ and there isn’t a girl I know of that I 
should want for the ninth.” 

“ I can’t think of a soul,” murmured Serena, 
who was popping corn before the open fire. 

“ Perhaps some one will move here,” Jane sug- 
gested hopefully. “ I did.” 

“ Not every one who moved here could be one, 
Lady Jane,” said Polly with a laugh. “ We’re 
very particular pickers and choosers.” 

Jane slid off the couch and made a courtsey for 
the implied compliment. “ Let me shake the 
corn-popper for a while, Serena. Your cheeks are 
just blazing, and I feel I ought to do something to 
deserve the nice thing Polly said.” 

“ If you have a helpful spirit there’ll be plenty 
of chance for you,” Molly observed wisely. “ Girls, 
this is the last year I can ever be a Junior Ninepin, 
and I’m going to be a very strict and strenuous 
president. To-morrow there’s a regular meeting 
at my house, and we’ve got to decide what we’ll do 
for Miss Rachel’s children.” 

“ Who’s Miss Rachel ? ” demanded Jane. 

“ Miss Rachel Hooper, who used to live iti Bel- 
haven,” Polly explained. “ Now she lives in Bos- 
ton, and she runs a little bakery where poor peo- 
ple can get home-made things at reasonable prices.” 

“ And she has a club of about ten girls and 
boys,” added Marian. “ And for the last three 
246 


Enter the Concert Girl 


years the J. N. P.’s have done something for them 
in the Christmas holidays.” 

“ How perfectly fine.” Jane turned to her 
mother with shining eyes. “ Aren’t you glad I 
belong to this club, mumsey ? And now you won’t 
mind, will you, if I tell you that I stepped on my 
dress and tore an awful, jagged tear? I’ve been 
waiting for just the proper minute to break the 
news.” 

Mrs. Stuart laughed with the others. “ I sup- 
pose we shall have to make allowance for a certain 
amount of wear and tear,” she said philosophically, 
“ but why, oh, why, did you choose the very front 
of your skirt ? ” • 

“ She can’t help it. She’s so straightforward,” 
remarked Rob, who had just strolled in from the 
other room, where he had beaten in an absorbing 
game of chess. 

“Well, Janey, considering that we have that to 
mend we must be going home. It’s four o’clock, 
anyway, and time for us to get started.” 

Mrs. Stuart’s departure was the signal for the 
girls, and, as they often did on Friday afternoons, 
the boys locked up the little house, and all walked 
home together through the winter twilight. It 
had been a bright, cold December day, but as yet 
there had been no lasting fall of snow. The path 
through the woods was by this time worn broad 
247 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

and smooth by the tramp of many feet, and some 
weeks before this the boys had built a permanent 
and substantial bridge across the little brook. 

Walking by the bayberry-candle house Jane 
looked somewhat anxiously at the windows. “ I 
must find time to run in there to-morrow,” she 
murmured, hardly meaning to speak aloud. 

Rob, walking beside her, heard the murmured 
remark, and answered in the same low tone, 
“ How’s the E. P., Jane, and did the crack go any 
deeper ? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes I think it did, 
but it’s still a perfectly good spell, and likely to 
last for a long time, I’m afraid.” Jane shook her 
head with an air of discouragement. “ Do you 
know,” she went on confidentially, “ I’m really 
getting so I rather like her, and that makes me all 
the more anxious to break the horrid old spell. 
Once in a while when I go there I get quite ex- 
cited because I think I’m really making some 
progress, and the next time it’s just as if she had 
built up a high, thick wall between us.” 

“ Why do you bother about her, then ? ” ques- 
tioned Carol, who had come up unobserved and 
slipped her arm through Jane’s. “ Oh, I know 
perfectly well you’re talking about that Mary 
Brown, and I can’t see why you waste your time 
over her. You’re much too good to her, I think.” 

248 


Enter the Concert Girl 

“ It isn’t goodness,” Jane retorted. “ I — I s’pose 
it isn’t badness, either, but it’s really mostly be- 
cause I hate to fail when I start out to do any- 
thing. And after that first time I went to see her 
I thought I was going to do great things, and I 
promised myself and — and dear Miss Brown.” 

“ What makes you call her that ? ” Carol asked 
a little snappishly. 

“ Because it was the first really pleasant thing I 
heard Mary say, and because it fits her to perfec- 
tion. She’s the dearest, cheerfulest thing. Each 
time I go to see Mary,” Jane went on thought- 
fully, “ I think I’m going to persuade her to come 
and meet the rest of you, but — not at all. She’s 
sure to slip out of it in some way, though she’s 
getting awfully interested in every one of you. 
When it does happen you’ve all got to stand by 
me and make her feel comfortable.” 

“ Carol and I will be our most delightful selves,” 
promised Rob. “ Miss Mary Brown will be so 
charmed she’ll be sorry for all the time she has 
wasted.” 

Carol’s expression was not propitious, but she 
said nothing, and only clung a little more closely 
to Jane’s arm. 

“ Hello ! ” said Rob, as they came out on the 
street on which the Stuarts lived, and halted for 
a moment in front of a small house already cheer- 
249 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

fully alight. “ Mr. Prescott’s at it, as usual. Just 
hear him hammer.” 

Mingled with the ringing strokes of the hammer 
came the sound of a tuneful voice singing a Ger- 
man folk-song, and Mrs. Stuart coming up with 
the others lingered to listen. When the last note 
died away there was a burst of applause from the 
group outside, and at the sound the singer ap- 
peared at the window. 

“ It is so warm in here I have left my window 
open,” he called. “ Come in — come in and see 
my book-shelves.” In another instant a flood of 
light streamed through the open doorway, and 
Frederick Prescott beamed hospitably upon them. 

“ You will like my book-shelves, I hope, Mrs. 
Stuart,” he said, ushering her into the little front 
room where a fire glowed in the fireplace. “ I 
have the fire to dry the walls which I have myself 
papered,” he explained with evident pride. “ Next 
week comes our furniture, and I shall arrange it 
so well as I can. My grandfather and sister are 
visiting a friend for two weeks, and I have the 
wish to make this house homelike for them.” 

“ The book-shelves are fine,” said Mrs. Stuart 
admiringly. “ Did you really put them up your- 
self? ” 

“ I have. And the paper — you have not per- 
haps noticed the paper ? ” Mr. Prescott’s manner 
250 


Enter the Concert Girl 


was modest, but he laughed as the question left 
his lips. “ You will think me a Very conceited 
person, nicht wahr ? ” he said with the charm 
which had already won the hearts of almost all 
his pupils. “ Well, perhaps I am. One thinks 
more of doing what he has supposed he cannot do. 
And I am so anxious to have things right for 
Hilda — for my little sister.” 

“ What a lovely name ! And what pretty 
paper!” Jane was gazing about her with the 
quick appreciation which was always her response 
to anything that pleased her eye. Then a daring 
thought struck her. “ When are you going to 
paint those shelves ? Couldn’t I help ? I love to 
put paint on anything.” 

“ Oh, Jane, I should be afraid to have you try 
it,” protested her mother. “ But if you’ll let us, 
Mr. Prescott, we’ll come over and wash the dishes 
when they are unpacked, and make the china 
closet ready for Miss Hilda. Shall we have a set- 
tling-party next week, girls?” she ended, looking 
around only to meet instant approval in all the 
faces. 

“ We’ll help unpack if Mr. Prescott will let us, 
and then you and the girls can arrange things,” 
said Rob. “ May we, Mr. Prescott ? ” 

“ Ach ! That will gif me the greatest Measure,” 
responded the young man, becoming very German 
251 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

all at once in his evident gratitude. He was 
standing where the light fell full upon his boyish, 
friendly face, and David wondered for the hun- 
dredth time why certain boys at the school did 
their best to make life hard for him. 

“ And if you will permit Miss Jane and her 
brother to come in to-morrow,” Frederick Prescott 
went on, “ she shall have a chance to try her hand 
at painting if she likes.” 

“ If I like ! ” Jane cried rapturously. “ I’ve 
never painted anything but a garden chair before 
— now, Spinksy — don’t you dare tell that it never 
dried properly. I’m wild to try something else. 
Don’t you — don’t you just love the way painters 
slap their brushes down ? ” 

“ Mother, I think we ought to take Mrs. Janes 
home,” said David solemnly. “ She’ll have paint 
all over this house if we don’t look out.” 

The painting of the shelves next day proved to 
be even more interesting than Jane had anticipated, 
for while she worked under Mr. Prescott’s direction 
he told her stories of Germany and of famous 
artists. Polly was there, too, and Carol wandered 
in. David and his inseparables, Rob and Donald, 
who prided themselves on their ability as car- 
penters, went briskly about with hammers and 
screw-drivers, and looked, so Carol told them, 
more important than they really were. In the 
252 


Enter the Concert Girl 

back yard Kenneth was playing the part of 
Hercules cleaning the Augean stables, with Mr. 
Chope as an ever faithful aid and inspirer. 

The settling-party was planned for the next 
Friday. Mrs. Stuart suggested that they should 
all work as long as they could in the afternoon, 
and come to her house for supper. Then if they 
needed to go back for an hour in the evening it 
would be an easy matter. 

For the first four afternoons of the following 
week Mr. Prescott and the boys worked with such 
good result that by Friday the repair work was 
finished, the little house was swept and clean from 
top to bottom, and the furniture unpacked. 

Like a good general Mrs. Stuart divided her 
forces into detachments. There were pictures to 
be wiped and hung, books to be dusted and set on 
the shelves, dishes to be washed and put in the 
closets. 

“ IPs much better fun washing your neighbor’s 
dishes,” said Serena wielding a dish-mop with a 
capable air. “ How does the closet look, girls ? ” 

“ Perfectly fine, and the books are standing in 
rows like soldiers, and Jane and Mr. Prescott are 
wandering around with their eyes half shut so’s to 
get a proper view of the pictures.” Carol, who 
had come into the kitchen to get a drink, paused 
to look at Serena with admiring eyes. 

253 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ That pink apron is the most becoming thing I 
ever saw you wear, Serena Holt. You can cer- 
tainly have me when you wear that.” 

Serena laughed. “ Why haven’t you an apron ? 
What are you doing ? ” she asked. 

“ Oh, I ? Why, I’m chief inspector. There has 
to be some one to keep ’em all going, so I appointed 
myself.” 

“ Lazy thing,” commented Polly. “ Say, Carol, 
has Molly come yet ? ” 

Carol shook her head, and the two other girls 
exchanged a disappointed glance. 

“ I’m afraid she won’t then, and it’s all on 
account of that wretched Stanley,” Polly scolded. 
“ What does make him so hateful? ” 

“ Mother says it’s because he thinks that your 
crowd doesn’t like him, and those other boys 
flatter him,” said an unexpected voice so near 
Carol’s shoulder that she jumped. It was Judy 
Stuart, who had slipped in by way of the back 
door to see how things were going, and had plunged 
at once into what seemed to her an interesting 
conversation. 

“ She says she thinks he wants to be nicer some- 
times, but he probably doesn’t know how to begin. 
I heard her talking to Jane and Donald and David 
about it.” Judy was yielding without much resist- 
ance to the temptation to make herself interesting 
254 


Enter the Concert Girl 


to those older girls. “ Mother said that when you 
got into the habit of beings mean and selfish it was 
much easier to keep on than to stop, but Jane and 
Davy don't think Stanley wants to be different." 

“ He needn't be so mean to Molly, anyway," said 
Serena, as Judy, having said all she could think 
of, drifted away to inspect the rest of the house. 
“ She gives up everything to him." 

“I wonder if that's the reason," questioned 
Polly thoughtfully. Then she laughed. “It 
doesn’t seem to have much effect on Mr. Prescott, 
does it, to have Stan and those Dallas Street boys 
fairly tearing their hair to think up something to 
bother him ? He's so busy trying to teach us and 
help everybody that he doesn’t even know it when 
people are not nice to him." 

“ He's a perfect lamb," remarked Carol as if that 
settled the question. “ I only hope his sister will 
be one quarter as nice. Really, girls, I don't think 
you're working as fast as you should," she ended 
in an official manner. “ I must go and look after 
the other departments." 

At half-past six when they all left to go to Mrs. 
Stuart's for supper there was a charming air of 
homelikeness about the house which filled them 
with admiration. 

“ You don't need to bother 'bout lockin' up, 
Mr. Prescott," called Mr. Chope, opening the 
255 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

kitchen door to look at the gay group just depart- 
ing. “ I’ve got my job laid out tinkerin’ this 
range to make it go right, and I’ll keep house till 
you git here agin.” 

Kenneth looked back with longing. There 
were possibilities even in a kitchen stove when 
Mr. Chope set his imagination to work upon it, 
and he was not sure that he might not be missing 
something. But then Judy and he were to help 
Susan Trot wait on table, and that in itself was a 
novelty. 

“ Everything tastes so good when you work 
hard,” said Carol with a virtuous air, gratefully 
accepting her third biscuit, and looking up in 
mild surprise at the storm of protest which greeted 
her remark. 

“ Aw, Carol, I didn’t see you do a thing.” Ken- 
neth, taking her very seriously, stopped in his 
serving of biscuits to argue the point, and was 
sharply urged on his way by Judy, who was follow- 
ing with creamed potatoes. 

“ Why, Ken, have you hurt your foot? What 
makes you limp?” demanded mother, who had 
been watching her son’s progress around the table. 

Kenneth stopped, looked at Judy, and turned 

very red. “ Why, Mr. Chope said — he said ” 

he swallowed hard and took a fresh start. “ Mr. 
Chope said,” he repeated, “ that Judy and I could 
256 


Enter the Concert Girl 


play we were Heeb and Grannymede ; and you 
know Grannymede was carried off by an eagle, 
and it hurt his foot.” 

Something in his appealing eagerness averted 
the threatened laughter, and, for an instant, the 
older girls and boys looked almost too solemn. 

“ Come here, my Hebe, and give me some of thy 
potatoes,” said Mr. Prescott, breaking the silence. 
“ I did not know before that I was present at an 
Olympian banquet, but so it is.” 

“ I choose to be Mars,” Rob said suddenly. 
“ Red hair — fiery temper, the God of war for mine. 
On, Ganymede, with your biscuits. If you don’t get 
around to me soon I shall have a battle right here.” 

“ Ken, I told you it wasn’t * Granny,’ but you 
wouldn’t believe me.” Judy’s remark was audi- 
ble to the entire company. 

“ Well, if the best-tempered boy in the crowd is 
going to be Mars, I’m going to be Diana,” said 
Carol. “ You know how I perfectly love out-of- 
door sports.” 

“ Davy ought to be Mercury,” suggested Judy, 
“ because he’s always doing errands for somebody.” 

“ And I’m just like quicksilver in my nature,” 
remarked David with an appreciative grin. 
“ Where does Jane come in ? ” 

“ Oh, she’s Venus, of course,” decreed Kenneth, 
so completely absorbed in this delightful game 
25 7 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

that he set the plate of biscuits on a chair and for- 
got all about them. “ You have to have some one 
that’s awfully good-looking for that.” 

“ Why, Ken,” expostulated his sister, blushing 
to the waving locks on her forehead, and jumping 
up from her chair. “ Mother, I’m positive I heard 
the door-bell a few minutes ago. We were making 
such a noise — but I’d better see,” and with the de- 
lighted laughter of the others ringing in her ears 
Jane made her escape. 

Almost at the same instant the swinging door 
from the kitchen was pushed open, and held by 
Miss Trot, who was evidently trying to encourage 
some one to enter. 

“ Come right in,” she was saying ; “ he’s here, 
and they’ll all be tickled to death to see you.” 

There was a moment of hesitation on the part 
of some one, and then a girl, a pretty girl with 
brown hair and lovely brown eyes, came shyly 
into the dining-room. 

“ I — I beg your pardon,” she stammered, look- 
ing straight at Mrs. Stuart. “ They told me my 
brother was here.” 

At the moment of her entrance there had been a 
delighted exclamation from Mr. Prescott, who was 
on the other side of the room, and by the time she 
had finished speaking he was at her side with 
hands on her shoulders. 

258 


Enter the Concert Girl 


“ Hilda, why have you changed your plans ? ” he 
asked, holding her off to look at her, and then giv- 
ing her a hearty kiss. “ Grandfather is not ill ? ” 

“ No. But we had to come without any warn- 
ing. I’ll explain later. But, Frederick, you have 
made the house lovely for us. A nice old man 
told me where to find you, and said he would stay 
while I was away. And as for grandfather — well, 
I left him counting over his set of Scott, so you 
can see he’s all right.” 

And then Miss Hilda Prescott stopped for breath, 
and remembered where she was, and turned with a 
blushing apology to be introduced to Mrs. Stuart. 

At this moment Jane opened the door from the 
front hall, and having given herself time to re- 
cover from the embarrassment of her young 
brother’s unexpected compliment, was quite her- 
self again. 

“ Nobody there,” she began airily. “ I even 
went out and looked around the end of the piazza.” 
Then, seeing the stranger for the first time, she 
stopped short, and stared with perplexity, doubt 
and, at last, joyous recognition in her gaze. 

“ Why, it’s my concert girl!” she exclaimed, 
starting at once across the room and meeting Hilda 
Piescott half-way. 

“ It’s my sister,” Frederick Prescott explained 
with an air of great pride ; “ she has come unex- 
259 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

pectedly, but, thanks to you all, I am ready for 
her.” 

“ Oh, but it can’t be — you must be mistaken,” 
faltered Jane, conscious how foolish this must 
sound, but quite unable to keep from saying it. 
“ Her brother’s name was Fritz.. But — but she 
did say he was an artist, and that he was quite 
German — I mean that he had lived in Germany 
for a long time.” 

Frederick Prescott laughed with the others. 
“ Fritz is the German of it, you see,” he said hap- 
pily. “ And I know I do not speak like an Ameri- 
can, but you will all teach me. And now, Hilda, 
we should go to find grandfather.” He paused in 
surprise as he turned to his sister, for she was 
searching eagerly in the bag she still carried, and 
talking apparently to herself. 

“ It’s been in here ever since we left Marston,” 
she murmured. “ Here it is — no, that’s mine — 
ah, at last,” and with a smile of triumph Miss 
Hilda Prescott dangled before Jane’s astonished 
eyes the lost “ heirloom.” 

Jane gazed at her in speechless amazement. 
No one knew how the loss of little Aunt Jane’s 
bag had weighed upon her spirits, nor what it 
meant to her to see again the heavy silver chain, 
the cherubs with their puffy cheeks, the smooth, 
linked surface. 


260 


Enter the Concert Girl 


“ Oh,” she said with tears of gladness filling her 
eyes, “ where did you find it ? ” 

“ In my grandfather's suit-case — the day we left 
Marston,” answered Hilda; “ but how it got there 
I don’t know. The last time he used his suit- 
case he unpacked it himself and put it awa} 7 , and 
I, carelessly, didn’t look at it. In consequence he 
hunted for weeks for a book he thought he had 
lost, and I couldn’t find some of his handker- 
chiefs. When I came to pack the suit-case I 
found the other things — and this. 

“ Grandfather couldn’t imagine how it got 
there,” Hilda continued, “ and I knew right away 
that I had seen it, or one like it, but I couldn’t 
tell where until just as I saw you.” 

“ I believe I’ve met your grandfather,” said 
Jane in a queer, choked voice. She was hugging 
the precious bag to herself, and she looked as if 
she were dreaming a happy dream and hated to 
wake. Suddenly her irresistible laugh broke the 
silence. 

“ Oh,” she cried, flashing a glance from her 
mother to David, and then to Donald, Rob and 
Carol, “ that was my helpful day, and I put it in 
that nice old gentleman’s suit-case myself.” 


261 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE PRINCESS MEETS AN ELF 

“ Carol put the finishing touch to the whole 
thing,” said Jane, regarding the blue and silver 
circle on her little finger with an air of profound 
satisfaction. “ I didn’t expect to see that ring 
again any more than I expected ever to see the 
heirloom — or my pretty concert girl — or the nice 
old gentleman — or the girl’s brother.” It was two 
days after Christmas, and Jane, making an after- 
noon call on Mary Brown, had been telling her 
about everything that had happened since they 
last met. “ Carol made up her mind right away 
that if her mother would let her, she’d buy it 
again and give it to me for Christmas. Wasn’t it 
dear of here? ” 

“Lovely. And the ring looks just right on 
your hand. I wish I’d given you something 
really nice, Jane.**’ There was a wistful note in 
Mary’s voice which made Jane smile at her reas- 
suringly. 

“ Why, I love the pen-wiper you made yourself. 
And I’ve been so neat about my pen ever since 
262 


The Princess Meets an Elf 


Christmas. I’m not sure that it won’t make my 
writing better to get into such good habits.” 

Mary laughed, and Jane, listening, felt a thrill of 
triumph. It was a real laugh, she told herself, 
and the girl’s dark eyes were no longer sorrowful, 
and her cheeks had a tinge of color. 

“ Brownie and I didn’t do much for Christmas,” 
Mary went on. “ She presented me with a won- 
derful pair of bed shoes that she had made when 
the kitten would let her have her wool, and I — 
well, I gave her a small present.” 

The mention of the kitten made Jane chuckle. 
Whenever she thought of Miss Brown it was 
always to see her tangled or caught in some 
way. 

“ We didn’t do much of anything this year,” 
she said a moment later with a sober look stealing 
into her eyes. u It’s — it’s rather expensive for 
mother to bring up four children, so Davy and I 
just pretended we didn’t want to give any presents 
except some little things we could make. And, 
of course, every one was ten times too generous to 
us.” Jane’s tone revealed even more than her 
words. Now that she had started, there was a 
certain comfort in letting out some of her inmost 
feelings to this girl, who probably knew as much 
as she herself did about the trials of not being able 
to give to one’s friends. “ Donald gave Spinksy 
263 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

and me snowshoes and moccasins,” she went on, 
“ and my present to him was some pieces of blot- 
ting-paper tied together, with a bee-yu-tiful hand- 
painted flower on the outside.” The sarcastic 
tone with which she ended made the other girl 
wince, and look at her perplexedly. 

“ Probably he liked it just as much as you like 
the pen-wiper I gave you. You said you loved 
that,” she ventured. 

Jane thought hard for an instant. “ I do. I 
really do, though you look as if you don’t believe 
me,” she said earnestly. “ And it was almost the 
same, wasn’t it? Don knew I couldn’t afford to 
give much, and, of course, I knew — I mean I 
thought it was lovely of you to remember me at 
all.” 

To Jane’s surprise Mary actually looked relieved, 
almost as if she had been dreading something that 
had not happened, and there was a real light in 
her eyes and another little laugh. Jane fairly 
hugged herself. Two laughs in one call. That 
was progress, and something to tell Dr. Reed. 

“ I’m just longing to have you know Hilda Pres- 
cott and her brother,” she said with a quick change 
of subject. “ Carol and I were there yesterday 
and Hilda said she’d love to have you come in for 
a cup of chocolate some afternoon.” Jane was 
always setting little enticing traps for this friend, 
264 


The Princess Meets an Elf 


but to her disappointment Mary never seemed to 
get caught. 

“ Their sitting-room with the open fire, and 
Grandfather Prescott in the armchair with books 
all around him, and Hilda dancing in and out 
with the tea-things, makesjust the loveliest picture,” 
Jane went on dreamily. “ I’ve always wished 1 
could adopt a grandmother or a grandfather. 
They’re so — so picturesque.” 

“ How would you feel if you didn’t have a single 
relative ? ” demanded the other girl with a queer, 
twisted smile that was worse, Jane thought, than 
no smile at all. 

“ I just can’t imagine living without my family,” 
she answered slowly. “ Oh, Mary, I’m so sorry. 
Why don’t you come sometimes and borrow my 
mother? Every one else does.” 

“ Perhaps I shall — some day.” 

Jane always felt as though Mary were hastily 
withdrawing into herself whenever making new 
acquaintances was suggested, but she didn’t in the 
least stop planning on that account. 

“ Of course you have Miss Brown, and she’s just 
as — as picturesque as any grandmother I could 
imagine,” she went on with a twinkle in her eye. 

“ Did I ever tell you how I first saw Brownie ? ” 
Mary was staring thoughtfully out of the window 
as she asked the question, and Jane felt a sudden 
265 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

thrill. It was the first time Mary had volunteered 
any confidence, and now, perhaps, she should get 
her reward for the questions she had kept back. 

“ I was lying in bed in a hospital,” Mary began 
with her eyes fixed on something in the far dis- 
tance, “ and I didn’t want to see any one, and I 
hoped I shouldn’t get well. And then one morn- 
ing the biggest bunch of white and purple lilacs I 
ever saw walked straight into the room, and behind 
it was Miss Brown.” Mary smiled a little over the 
picture she was recalling, and Jane waited in 
breathless silence. 

“ She began right away to tell me some absurd 
thing that had just happened to her,” continued 
Mary, “ and she gurgled and choked so over it that 
I couldn’t even guess what it was, but I couldn’t 
help laughing a little. And that was the begin- 
ning of getting better. After that I saw her every 
day, because she had a little house, and a lovely 
garden near by, and she was always running in 
with flowers, or something she had cooked. Every- 
body in the hospital loved her, and called her 
‘ dear Miss Brown,’ ” Mary ended, “ and it didn’t 
make any difference to her how poor or homely or 
disagreeable any one was.” 

“ She’s a darling,” Jane agreed, hoping that Mary 
would go on, but not daring to ask a question. 

“ You don’t care whether a person is pretty or 
266 


The Princess Meets an Elf 


homely, or rich or poor, do you ? ” The other girl 
had turned away from the window and was gazing 
straight into Jane's eyes with an eagerness which 
seemed out of proportion to her question. “ I 
mean it wouldn't keep you from liking any one if 
she were poor and — and not good-looking." 

“ Not a bit," answered Jane serenely. “ I love 
to see pretty people, and only this morning I was 
wishing hard that I could be a little richer, but 
those things don't count when I'm choosing my 
friends. I suppose — the ones I like best " — Jane 
was working out the problem in her mind as she 
talked — “ have something in their minds — that 
answers to something — in me. There, if you can 
make anything out of that you're a wonder." 

“ I think perhaps I understand." Mary's face 
had grown suddenly very cheerful. “ But what 
would you do if you were rich ? Don’t you ever 
plan about it ? " 

“ Of course. Every one does, I guess. There 
are heaps of things I’d like to buy for myself," 
Jane began with her usual honesty. “ But I do 
hope that first I should see that mother had every 
cent she wanted. And I'd give Susan Trot money 
enough so that she could go to school, and then 
study to be a nurse. I know she could have a 
better teacher than I am, though she stops her ears 
when I say so. 


26 7 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ And I wish,” Jane went on, by this time quite 
interested in her own imaginings, “ that I had a 
little of my wealth in my pocket just now so that 
I could make a better time for those children the 
Ninepins are going to have out here next week.” 

Mary looked at her expectantly. She was inter- 
ested in the doings of the club. “ Tell me about it,” 
she urged. 

“ Well, you see the club treasury is rather low 
because the girls didn't get together very early 
this year, and they haven't had any entertainments 
or sales. But, of course, the kiddies will have an 
awfully good time. We’ve planned for luncheon 
in the club-house, and if the weather is good they're 
to coast and build snow-forts and have a real out- 
of-doors time. 

“ We're going to manage to give each one of 
them new leggings and mittens,” she went on 
quickly, “ but I'm just wild to send them home 
with something — why, something just for fun, you 
know, and that will make them always remem- 
ber.” 

“ Oh, excuse me,” said Mary, rising hastily, and 
looking as though she hadn't really heard Jane's 
lengthy explanation. “ Brownie’s just going to 
the store, and I forgot to ask her to get me some- 
thing.” 

Left to herself Jane pondered over the half 
268 


The Princess Meets an Elf 

revelations of the afternoon, and decided that she 
didn't really know anything more about Mary 
than she had before. She had almost given up 
trying to solve the perplexing problems which this 
friendship brought with it, but this latest conversa- 
tion made her wonder again why these two should 
live together, and why Mary should so shrink 
from knowing other people. “ She's poor," Jane 
said to herself, “ and I somehow believe she 
imagines she's dreadfully homely and disagreeable 
which, of course, she isn't. I wish — I do wish ” 

“ I heard Brownie saying last things to Fanny 
and I was afraid I should lose her if I didn’t 
hurry," apologized Mary, coming back into the 
room so suddenly that her guest jumped and felt 
that she must look guilty. “ What were you 
thinking about? You look miles away." 

“ About you." Jane laughed and felt a sudden 
audacity rise within her. “ I’m just wishing — oh, 
Mary, I'm wishing it so hard — that you would 
come over to the Ninepin party next week and 
help us out with those children. Somehow I feel 
it in my bones that you would know how to get 
on with them." 

“ Oh, I couldn’t. I couldn't possibly. I never 
had anything to do with children." Mary Brown 
was shrinking away from her in so evident a panic 
that Jane realized she had said the wrong thing, 
269 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

and that it wasn't the slightest use to urge this 
girl to meet the other girls and boys. 

“ Well, never mind. Only I wish you would 
come with me some time. They’d all like you and 
be so nice to you, and I’m sure you’d like them. 
And you’re quite well enough now to go out as 
much as you want to, aren’t you ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, I suppose so. But don’t ask me now. 

Some time — perhaps ” Mary Brown ended 

vaguely. And then with a sudden wistful eager- 
ness that touched Jane’s heart, “ Please don’t think 
I want to be so — so obstinate. I just love you for 
coming to see me, and I shall never forget it.” 

“ Neither shall I, and I’m coming lots of times 
more, and then I’m going to return all my own 
calls. Mary, your hair looks perfectly lovely to- 
day ; all soft and cloudy about your face. Well, 
I must run along. I’ve spent almost the whole 
afternoon here.” 

Going home Jane crunched over the hard snow 
joyously, and the breeze came to meet her with a 
swift keen touch that brought roses into her 
cheeks. At the end of the long street a fiery sun 
had just dropped out of sight, and the distant 
pines, rising from fields of snow, were darkly out- 
lined against a crimson sky. She drew a quick 
breath and gazed and gazed. A sight like this 
gave her an unexplainable happiness* 

270 


The Princess Meets an Elf 

“ I hope Spinksy and Don and I can try our 
snowslioes again 8001},” she was thinking as she 
hurried along. “ I’ve got to practice so that I 
shan’t have to be pulled out of the snow every five 
minutes.” She giggled involuntarily at the recol- 
lection of the absurd way her feet had acted the 
first time she put on snowshoes, and of the joy of 
the others over her valiant attempts to walk 
straight off the way Serena did. “ I’ve got to learn 
this vacation,” she assured herself decidedly. 
“ Rob says the right sort of snow doesn’t come any 
too often.” 

“ Hello, Janesy, Mr. Chope’s been looking for 
you,” Kenneth called, as she started up the front 
walk, and, turning toward the barn, she saw the 
old man standing in the doorway and waving 
something at her. 

“ For me? ” she asked when she got a little nearer. 
“ A letter ? ” 

“ Looks like it. I ain’t investigated yit, but if 
you hadn’t come jest when you did I dunno as my 
character would have stood the strain.” 

“ Where did it come from ? How did you get 
it?” Jane was tearing open the envelope with 
eager fingers, and she almost dropped it when a 
crackling ten-dollar bill met her eye. 

“ Jee-rusalem ! That’s a refreshin’ sight, ain’t 
it ! ” exclaimed Mr. Chope, looking so genuinely 
271 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

surprised that no one could have suspected him of 
knowing what the envelope contained. 

“ Of all things ! It can’t be for me." Jane, 
completely mystified, was staring at her own name, 
typewritten on the envelope. 

“ That’s the way you spell your name, ain’t it ? 
And ’twas left in this barn. P’raps that smart 
old hoss of ourn has been orrycullin’ agin. Or 

p’raps ” the light of fancy was playing in the 

old man’s eyes, but it died away again. “ I reelly 
don’t know for sure how that thing come here,” he 
went on soberly, “ and if I hev my suspicion ings, 
caused by seein’ somebody fly ’round a corner,” 
his face assumed a dreamy, almost tender expres- 
sion, “ I ain’t goin’ to tell unless that somebody 
says I can.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Chope, I should think you might. 
Couldn’t you tell mother, then, so she’ll know 
whether it’s all right to use it? ” 

Mr. Chope hesitated. “ No, I couldn’t,” he said 
at last firmly. “ You can give your ma my word 
that it’s all right enough for you to use it, but 
’tain’t fair, is it, for me to give away a secret jest 
becuz I happen to fall into it ? ” 

“ I s’pose not,” Jane answered doubtfully. “ It 
can’t be a Christmas present for me. Well, anyway. 
I’ll take it to mother and she’ll tell me what to do.” 

On the way to the house she had, in imagina- 
272 


The Princess Meets an Elf 


tion, already spent it in six different ways when 
an illuminating idea struck her. This was ex- 
actly what she had been wanting for the club’s 
holiday party. Now each child could have some- 
thing to take home as a souvenir. By the time 
Jane reached her mother’s room she had a rapidly- 
growing plan for a wonderful Christmas tree, 
which should be more beautiful than anything 
the children had ever seen before. 

She found mother reading to Judy, who had 
been kept in the house by a cold. 

“ I don’t know about having you use money left 
in that way,” said Mrs. Stuart after she had heard 
about it. “ I suppose if Mr. Chope says it’s all 
right it is, but ” 

“ Look ! ” croaked Judy, who had been poking 
her fingers into the envelope Jane had dropped be- 
side her. She pulled out a sheet of thin paper, 
rather tight for the envelope, on which was type- 
written, “ For the Ninepin Party.” 

“ Suppose,” said Jane, sinking weakly into a 
chair, “just suppose that hadn’t been found, and 
I had been piggy enough to use the money for 
myself. Anyway, I’m glad I thought of it before 
I was reminded. I’m wild to tell the girls, and I 
must find Spinksy and Don right away and see if 
they have any idea about it.” 

As Mr. Chope said, it was “ made-a-puppus ” 
273 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

weather when eight members of Miss Rachel 
Hooper’s club came out from the city in charge of 
an older girl. The boys met them at the station 
with a big sleigh, and when the sleigh had pene- 
trated into the woods as far as it could go, they 
packed the children on sleds, and drew them the 
rest of the way. The change from sleigh to sleds 
was made in front of the bay berry-candle house, 
and Rob, glancing at one of the windows, saw a 
girl holding back the curtain a little and looking 
out shyly. He hoped he should remember to tell 
Jane that he had caught a glimpse of the “ E. P.” 

A half hour later Mary Brown, not knowing in 
the least that she was an enchanted princess, came 
out of the house intending to wander into the 
neighborhood of the gay party, but to keep care- 
fully out of sight. In her heart was the faint stir- 
ring of a wish to be with others of her own age. 
“ If they were only all like Jane,” she said to her- 
self with a little sigh. “ I think we two are really 
friends.” 

There had been a light fall of snow the night 
before ; enough to freshen the fields and woods 
into dazzling whiteness again. Mary laughed 
aloud as a sudden breeze sent a cloud of snow dust 
into her face, and with the laugh came to her the 
revelation that she was a different girl from the 
one who had come to Belhaven a few months ago. 

274 


The Princess Meets an Elf 


“ I feel strong ; I like to walk through the snow 
and feel the wind pushing me back,” she exulted. 
“ I almost wish I had told Jane I would go and — 
and meet them all.” 

And then, with this courageous thought hardly 
out of her mind, she almost turned and fled be- 
cause she suddenly realized that some one was 
coming along a path near her. In a minute she 
saw that it was a red-coated child wearing a 
diminutive bonnet of black velvet and rosebuds 
pulled very much to one side. Her shiny rubber 
boots were suggestive of Christmas, and a last 
touch of elegance was added to her costume by a 
small blue parasol which she carried lovingly. 

“ I want to go to the party. Will you take 
me ? ” the newcomer said, slipping her red-mit- 
tened hand confidingly into Mary’s unwilling one. 
“ Take hold like that,” she demanded at once, ad- 
justing the grasp of her newly-found guide to suit 
her own ideas. 

Mary looked at her in amazement, but didn’t 
drop the little hand as she might have expected 
herself to do. 

“ Where did you come from ? Why aren’t you 
with the others ? Did they lose you ? ” she asked, 
walking on meohanically in the direction of the 
club-house, and wondering what she should do 
with this forceful young person. 

275 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ No, they didn't lose me. I lost myself. I 
guess they just forgot about me. But they’d be 
very sorry if I wasn’t at the party.” She hesitated 
a moment, and then went on glibly, “ My name is 
Pansy O’Brien, and I’m five years old, and I don’t 
like to go to school, and I’ve got two sisters and 
three brothers. Now you won’t need to ask me 
any questions, will you? Please, let’s talk about 
the party.” 

Mary gazed at the cherubic face with its blue 
eyes and halo of golden hair, and frowned in per- 
plexity. It would spoil the party, she realized, 
when they found this child had slipped away. If 
she could only get hold of Miss Brown, or — or 
some one. 

“ Would you mind coming back to my house, 
and then I’ll send some one to the party with 
you ? ” she asked, somewhat disconcerted by the 
calmly superior gaze with which Miss Pansy 
O’Brien was regarding her. 

“ I couldn’t do it. I shall run away and lost 
myself again if you try to make me. You’d be 
sorry, wouldn’t you, to find me all lied down in 
the snow ? And the kind little birdies would have 
to cover me up with leaves.” The child’s voice 
held a mournful cadence, and she looked as though 
she were ready to burst into tears. 

Suddenly she smiled with overpowering sweet- 
276 


The Princess Meets an Elf 


ness, and tugged at Mary’s hand. “ You take me 
to the party,” she urged in honeyed accents. “ I 
like you ’cause you’re so pretty. If you had 
on a blue dress ’stead of that black one you’d look 
like the princess in my sister’s fairy-book.” 

“ You’re a flatterer, and you don’t know what 
you’re talking about,” answered Mary crossly, and 
then, at the look of bewilderment in the little 
face, at once so wise and babyish, she relented. 

“ If you’ll be very, very quiet I’ll take you 
where you can see the party, and then you can go 
alone,” she said, starting at once in the proper 
direction. The child trotted along at her side, 
looking curiously into the unsmiling face, but 
saying nothing. 

“ There, now, look between the trees ; do you 
see that little house and all the people near it ? ” 
said Mary almost in a whisper. 

“ Yes, but it’s awful far. ’Bout ten miles, I 
should think,” answered Pansy O’Brien in a small 
voice. “ I’m — I’m afraid to go alone.” 

“ I’ll go a little nearer with you, then, and next 
time we stop, you mustn’t say a word against 
going on alone. Will you promise? ” 

“ Not a single word,” agreed the small girl. 

The two stole on for a short distance in perfect 
silence, Mary trying to keep behind the trees as 
much as possible, and looking ahead anxiously. By 
277 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

this time they were pretty near, and she could pick 
out Jane, and the tall, dark boy, Jane’s cousin, from 
the busy group. Children were running about, 
but, so far as Mary could tell, no one seemed to be 
worrying about any lost member of the party. 

“ Now we’re very near,” she said in a low tone, 
trying to make it impressive and sounding very 
stern in the attempt. “ You go on — slowly — and 
don’t say anything about me.” 

The child looked at her queerly and didn’t 
move. Suddenly she took a fresh grip of Mary’s 
hand, and tugged with such unexpected strength 
that the older girl found herself drawn out into a 
small open space, clearly in sight from the little 
house. At the same instant Pansy flung sturdy 
arms around her waist and emitted the first of a 
series of ear-piercing screams which, Mary felt, 
might easily be heard at the ends of the earth. 

“ Sh ! Oh, stop. Let go of me,” she implored, 
but it was too late. The child’s arms only clung 
the more convulsively, and she could see that 
people were beginning to run in their direction. 

For an instant, blinded somewhat by the daz- 
zling snow, and even more by tears of rage and 
real humiliation, Mary could scarcely see. Then 
she lifted her head proudly, and winked the tears 
away, for close at hand was Jane’s cousin, and 
behind him came Jane herself. 

278 


CHAPTER XV 


CAROL SEES A LIGHT 

“ Hello ! What’s the matter ? Is the little girl 
hurt?” called Donald, but before any one could 
answer Jane shot by her cousin like a flash. 

“ Why, Mary, you did come after all, didn’t 
you ? I’m so glad. And who’s your friend, and 
why does she scream ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” answered Mary helplessly, 
trying to move the little clinging creature so that 
she could look into her face. “ She told me she 
was lost, and that she wanted to come to the party, 
so I supposed she belonged.” 

“ But I never said a word after I promised not 
to, did I ? ” observed Pansy O’Brien, lifting her 
face, very red, but absolutely tearless, from Mary’s 
coat. Then, smiling blandly upon them all, she 
added, “ I only screamed and screamed.” 

“ I should think you did,” said Jane. “ But, 
Mary, I don’t know where she belongs. All of 
our children are here.” 

Several of the other girls and boys had come up 
by this time, and the city children stood around 
and gazed admiringly at the newcomer. Feeling 

279 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

herself the center of attraction she obligingly 
hoisted the small blue parasol again, and looked 
coyly at them from beneath it. 

“ I know who you are,” said Polly Reed, who 
was one of the last to join the little group. 
“ You’re one of the O’Brien children, aren’t you, 
and you live over on the Cooper Road. How did 
you know about this party ? ” 

“ Heard some girls talking ’bout it. If you 
please I’d like to see it.” Pansy’s sweetness of 
tone and expression were irresistible. 

“ So you shall,” answered Jane warmly. “ Girls, 
and — and everybody, this is my friend, Mary 
Brown. I’m not going to take time to introduce 
each one separately, but you can all play you’ve 
met before. And now come on back to the party.” 

“ I want to walk with my girl,” said Pansy, 
seizing Mary’s hand again. 

“ You may have one side and I’ll have the 
other,” agreed Jane gayly, though she was quak- 
ing for fear Mary would refuse. 

“ Come on, come on, the sun is in the sky, the 
little birds do fly,” sang the unabashed Pansy, in a 
sort of joyous chant. She was tugging at her new 
friend’s hand, and gazing into the perplexed face 
with her most enticing expression. 

“Come on, come on, the snow is white, to stay 
away is not polite,” warbled Jane, in quick imita- 
280 


Carol Sees a Light 

tion, tucking her hand under Mary’s arm and 
gently propelling her in the right direction. 

Suddenly the girl yielded to the friendly arm, 
and the small, tugging hand. “ I’ll come — for a 
little while,” she said slowly, and Jane, giving her 
no time to repent, almost ran toward the little 
house, where Mrs. Stuart, Hilda Prescott and 
Serena were busily getting a substantial luncheon 
on the long table. 

From that moment, as Jane said afterward, 
everything went on as though the party had been 
planned for the special purpose of bringing Mary 
Brown into the companionship she so much 
needed. She could not feel that these girls and 
boys were strangers, because she had known them 
so long through Jane’s description, and to her 
great joy they seemed to take her sudden arrival 
as a matter of course. 

For a while she helped make sandwiches, and 
in the process quite lost her heart to Mrs. Stuart 
and Hilda Prescott. Then Jane pulled her into 
one of the smaller rooms to assist in trimming the 
little tree which the children were to have after 
dinner ; and a little later, Donald, finding her un- 
occupied for a moment, begged her to come out 
and help entertain some of the guests of the club. 

It was a new world to Mary. A world full of 
friendliness and sunshine and self-forgetfulness. 

281 




Jane Stuart’s Chum 

Up to this moment she would have said that she 
didn’t care for children, but now Pansy O’Brien’s 
openly avowed preference for “ my girl ” filled 
her with secret pride, and made it possible for her 
to approach the other children with an air of com- 
radeship. So engrossed was she in trying to do 
everything asked of her that it didn’t occur to her 
until afterward that Jane’s particular friend, Carol, 
had very skilfully managed to avoid speaking to 
her. 

“ Say, talk about the ‘ E. P.,’ ” Rob said softly, 
coming upon Jane during an unoccupied moment. 
“ That ‘ spell’ has had to take an awful whack 
this time. I don’t see why you ever called that 
girl sad and shy.” 

“ Rob, I’m perfectly thunderstruck.” Jane was 
gazing in wide-eyed amazement at her friend, who 
at this moment was helping two or three children 
to roll a huge snowball, and laughing as gleefully 
as they. “ I can hardly believe my eyes. She’s 
almost pretty now, isn’t she?” 

“ Well,” answered Rob doubtfully, regarding 
the hitherto enchanted princess with a critical eye, 
“ well, she looks all right enough. And she acts 
as if — as if she had never found out before how to 
have a good time. I’ll take my hat off to you, 
Lady Jane, for being the champion spell-breaker.” 

“ It was really Miss Pansy O’Brien,” said Jane 
282 


Carol Sees a Light 

with a pleased laugh. Then her face grew sud- 
denly sober. “ There’s only one thing to spoil my 
happiness to-day,” she added. 

“ Tell me what it is. I’ll change it to suit you,” 
Rob promised with a rashness that made Jane 
smile again. 

“ You can’t. It’s about Molly. She’s here be- 
cause she’s the Ninepin president, and because she 
got this up, but she isn’t having a bit of a good 
time. And it’s all because that obstinate Stanley 
won’t come where Mr. Prescott is.” 

“ Freak ! What on earth does he expect us to do ? 
Boycott the Prescotts on his account ? ” began Rob 
angrily, and then the sight of Mrs. Stuart beckon- 
ing to them from the door of the little house made 
them both stop talking, and run to see what she 
wanted. 

The out-of-doors good time ended with the call 
to lunch, and afterward the children sat around 
the open fire in the girls’ club-room, and had a 
dessert of popcorn and apples while Frederick 
Prescott told stories, and drew pictures on a black- 
board to illustrate them. Even the older people 
were absorbed in the tale of the ambitious little 
fir-tree which yearned to be taken away from its 
peaceful home in the forest. 

Jane watched with longing eyes the way the 
clever fingers brought out the different scenes on 
283 


jane Stuart’s Chum 

the blackboard, and hugged herself over the re- 
membrance that Mr. Prescott had said her draw- 
ings were quite worth while, and that she was to 
have lessons from him after this vacation was over. 

A little later they all trooped back into the big 
room again, where lunch had been cleared away, 
and where a glittering Christmas tree, the very 
image of the one they had just been hearing about, 
held out its frosted, sparkling branches in fragrant 
welcome. 

Mr. Chope, who had volunteered to go and re- 
lieve any anxiety Mrs. O’Brien and Miss Brown 
might feel, had brought the latter back with him, 
and was secretly admiring the gleeful abandon 
with which she shared the joy of the children. 

Such treasures as that tree disclosed. First, 
school-bags made of brown twine which could be 
slung proudly over one shoulder, and used as a 
carry-all for other gifts. Oranges, nuts and candy, 
of course ; no self-respecting Christmas tree could 
hold up its head without those. Then dolls for 
the girls, and musical tops for the boys ; paint- 
boxes for the girls and magnetic toys for the boys. 
Wonderful hit-or-miss boxes, as Mrs. Stuart called 
them, in which had been carefully packed a choice 
collection of five and ten cent articles. 

“ IPs wonderful, isn’t it, how much fun you can 
get out of a ten-dollar bill — just dropped from the 
284 



“it was you, wasn’t it?” she said 



Carol Sees a Light 

sky,” said Jane, getting up from the floor where 
she had been helping some of the boys to spin their 
tops. 

“ Haven't you found out yet where that came 
from ? ” asked Carol curiously. 

Jane had “ no ” on the end of her tongue, but a 
sudden glance at little Miss Brown, who had evi- 
dently heard Carol's question, made her hesitate 
and look more closely. The little lady's pink 
cheeks were growing redder, and she looked at the 
floor, and half turned away as though hoping to 
escape Jane's penetrating gaze. Guilt was written 
on her face, and Jane felt all the pride of a discov- 
erer. 

“ It was you, wasn't it? ” she said rapidly, seiz- 
ing Miss Brown by her two hands. “ You left that 
ten-dollar bill in the barn, didn't you ? ” 

The little old lady looked at her appealingly. 
“ Oh, my dear, you — you ought not to ask me,” 
she faltered. “ I — I didn’t mean ” 

“ Never mind. It's lovely to know. Girls, girls, 
this is the fairy godmother. You know what I 
mean. The giver of a certain pretty, crackling 
piece of paper with a large X on it. Come on ; 
dance around her and salute.” Jane clutched the 
hands of the persons standing nearest her and 
swung them in a wild whirl about Miss Brown. 
The others joined in the widening circle, and each 
285 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

girl passing in front of the little lady bowed low. 
Mary Brown, dancing with the rest, her face full 
of mischievous delight, made even more of a salute 
than the others. 

“ But — but,” stammered Miss Brown, as soon as 
the laughter and noise had subsided a little, “ it 
was Mary ” 

“ Oh, I know it was Mary who asked you,” said 
Jane, not realizing that the sentence was unfin- 
ished. “ Put Mary in the middle, too, girls, and 
give her a salute all for herself. She just slid 
quietly out of the room when I said we wanted 
money, and never hinted what she was going for.” 

“ I want to stand with my girl in the middle of 
everything,” said Pansy O’Brien, deserting a small 
boy to whom she had taken a violent fancy, and 
nearly throwing Mary off her feet by her sudden 
onslaught. “ My girl is a princess, a princess, a 
princess,” she sang in a little high voice ; “ I will 
give her a dress, a blue dress, and a shiny crown.” 

Mary in her plain-looking black dress shrank 
from the child’s encircling arms, and a slow, dull 
color came in her cheeks. 

“ Once more around for Mary,” cried Molly, see- 
ing her embarrassment and meaning to make 
things easier. 

“ Don’t expect me to whirl any more,” protested 
Carol, twitching away from the circle and walking 
286 


Carol Sees a Light 

off with a pretense of weariness. It was foolish, 
she knew, but somehow it gave her a little pang 
to see how quickly the line closed up, and how 
little they needed her as they swept once more 
about the rosy old lady and the slender girl. 

Later on when the winter sunshine was begin- 
ning to grow pale the children were packed on the 
sleds again, and whisked out to the waiting sleigh, 
and so to the train. 

The boys came back to find the little club-house 
in its normal condition, and the girls just getting 
ready to go home. Suddenly from their midst 
came the wail of the weary Miss Pansy O’Brien. 

“ I want to go home,” she sobbed ; “ you got me 
over here, and — and you got me all — tired — out.” 

Mrs. Stuart and Frederick Prescott started 
toward her at the same moment, and she cast her- 
self tumultuously upon the latter. “ I’ll let you 
take me home,” she wailed, “ and my girl must go 
too.” 

“ Ach, Kindchen, perhaps your girl is tired 
also. Get your little coat and that wonderful bon- 
net and ” 

“ And my sunshade.” 

“Surely — the sunshade, and I will myself take 
you home on a sled.” The young man stood for 
an instant with the flushed, weary little creature 
in his arms. Suddenly her head went down on 
287 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

the broad shoulder “ I want my — girl — to go,” 
she said in a stifled voice. 

Mary, forgetting her shyness, came from out the 
group of girls, and patted the small hand which 
the child was stretching out vaguely in search of 
her. She felt a sudden glow of pleasure at being 
so wanted. “ I’ll come with you, honey/' she said 
softly. 

“ Let's all walk around that way," proposed 
David. “ It isn’t much farther." 

“ I'm not going," Carol said abruptly. 

“ Oh, come on," urged Jane. “ It isn't really 
late, and you can come into our house afterward 
and talk it all over." 

“ No, I don't want to." Carol shook her head 
stubbornly, and hurried into her coat. “ No one 
need mind about me. Good-bye, all," and with- 
out another word she had slipped out of the door 
and was off along the homeward path. 

“ I'll go with her," David said quietly to his 
mother, and went in swift pursuit. 

An hour later David and Donald, coming home 
from the post-office, found Jane in a big armchair 
before the library fire. 

“I'm just too tired to move, but I'm awfully 
happy," she remarked lazily. “ Didn't those 
kiddies have the time of their lives ? And then to 
think that cherub of a Pansy should drag Mary in 
288 


Carol Sees a Light 

by main force ! I was too surprised, and too anx- 
ious to make her stay to see the joke of it just at 
first, but it was lovely, wasn’t it? Did you take 
Carol home, Spinksy ? ” 

“ Yes. That is, I went with her until we were 
in sight of the house. She wanted to shake me 
before that, but of course I couldn’t let her.” 

“ Is she — is she very grouchy ? ” 

“ Jane, you’re too popular,” said Donald sud- 
denly, “ or else Carol’s a little goose. I’m not sure 
which.” 

“ I’m not too popular.” Jane was aroused at 
once. “ I’m fond of all the girls, and they like 
me, and except Carol, they don’t care a snap if I like 
forty others. I don’t see why Carol should think 
I’ve got to like just one, and she’d be the one.” 

“ She didn’t say anything like that when we 
were going home,” said David. “ I got in wrong 
by asking her if she’d spoken to the new girl, and 
then — well, I tried to make her brace up and be a 
good sport, but somehow it didn’t work. She’s got 
it in for me, all right.” 

“ Poor Spinksy.” Jane was regarding her twin 
with a mischievous glance. “ One girl’s enough 
for you to manage, and I’m the one.” 

Donald, who had been promenading back and 
forth, looking very thoughtful, suddenly stopped 
and came to sit down near the other two. 

289 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“By Jinks!” he said explosively, with such a 
change from his usual quiet manner that the twins 
looked at him in surprise. “ I bet I realize more 
than any of the rest of you how Mary Brown was 
feeling to-day. I guess I know how it seems to be 
hungry and thirsty for something you never think 
you’re going to have, and then — all of a sudden — 
get it.” 

“ Well, I only hope Mary won’t go back into her 
shell,” murmured Jane. 

“ Keep at her. Don’t let her,” Donald urged. 
“ I’m almost equal to going over there, and in- 
forming her myself how good it will be for her to 
have a jolly time with girls and boys. I tell you 
I’m walking on air most of the time.” He sprang 
from his chair and pranced up and down the room 
again with so ridiculously happy an expression 
that Jane and David had to laugh at him. 

A sudden peal of the door-bell made Donald, who 
was nearest, hurry to the front door, and the twins 
could hear him urging some one to come in. A 
moment later he reappeared followed by Stanley 
Oliver. 

“ Hello, Stan, where have you been all vacation ? 
I’ve hardly seen you.” David pulled up a chair 
for the unexpected guest, and tried hard to make 
his welcome sound cordial. 

“ Oh, nowhere in particular — just around town,” 
290 


Carol Sees a Light 

Stanley answered vaguely.. In the face of friendli- 
ness like this it was hard for him to keep up the 
resentful pose he had adopted. Jane, looking at 
him as he stood in the full glow of the fire, told 
herself decidedly that it was a pity such a nice 
looking boy should be such a grumpy goose. 

“ I .wish you’d been there this afternoon, Stan- 
ley,” she said suddenly. “ We needed every bit of 
help we could have. And, did Molly tell you, my 
friend, Mary Brown, came to the party ? ” Jane’s 
air of triumph was perfectly evident. 

“ I haven’t seen Molly, but Carol told me. I 
met her just at her gate and went in for a little 
while. She said she thought you liked very queer 
people.” Stanley laughed, and Jane felt imme- 
diately that Carol had probably said a great deal 
more than this. 

“ I don’t see anything specially queer about 
Mary. I think it’s a great deal queerer not to be 
willing to be nice to her,” she sputtered, with her 
cheeks growing very hot and red. “ Why under 
the sun people want to be so grouchy, and not like 
people who haven’t done a thing to them, and — 

and try to make them uncomfortable ” she 

stopped suddenly, warned by Stanley’s expression 
that he was taking these remarks to himself. 

“ Oh, I didn’t mean you this time,” she tried to 
explain, thereby only making matters worse. 

291 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

Then, realizing that nothing she could say would 
help her out, she recklessly plunged in still deeper. 

“ I don’t care, I think it’s very mean of you to 
go with those other boys all the time and make 
Molly so unhappy. And Mr. Prescott and his sis- 
ter want to be friends with you, and you won’t let 

them. You’re just foolishly ” Jane suddenly 

realized that David and Donald were staring at 
her uncomfortably, and she stopped talking and 
picked up the poker and broke a lump of coal with 
a spiteful blow. 

“ Perhaps you think I like having a teacher 
down on me,” said Stanley huffily. He was star- 
ing at the fire, which had leaped into brilliant 
flame under Jane’s sudden attack, and his boyish 
face looked as though he thought himself very 
much ill-used. “ I haven’t had a decent mark in 
his classes since he’s been here.” 

“ Well, I don’t see that that’s his fault,” began 
Jane, but a warning pinch from her twin who had 
sat down on the arm of her chair silenced her. 

“ And you don’t any of you really want me,” 
Stanley went on, so absorbed in his own trials 
that he scarcely noticed Jane’s interruption. 
“ You just put up with me because I’m Molly’s 
brother. You needn’t think I’m such a numskull 
as not to see that.” 

“ For pity’s sake why don’t you make us like 
292 


Carol Sees a Light 

you for just yourself, then?” demanded Jane, 
totally disregarding her own conscience and 
David’s forceful grip on her arm. “ We’re all 
ready, but if you will keep on being hateful to 
Molly, and doing all sorts of babyish, spiteful 
tricks to make Mr. Prescott uncomfortable you 
can’t expect ” 

Her impatient voice stopped suddenly at sight 
of her mother coming into the room with hand 
outstretched and the smile of welcome she always 
had for Stanley. 

“ You’re just in time for supper, Stanley,” Mrs. 
Stuart said cordially. “ Boys, are you both ready ? 
We shall be called in fifteen minutes.” 

“ Thank you, I can’t stay,” mumbled Stanley, 
almost without looking at her. “ I — I only came 
because Carol asked me to bring a note to Jane. 
Good-bye, all,” and extracting from his pocket a 
missive addressed in Carol’s dashing handwriting, 
he went before any one could say a word. 

“ Oh, say, you made me feel like a perfect 1 it,’ 
Mrs. Janes,” groaned David. “ By the time I 
could think of anything half-way decent to say to 
Stan you’d jump in and rub it into him again. 
I’m too everlastingly slow.” 

His twin looked at him with an expression of 
mingled rebellion and penitence. “ Spinksy, I’m 
just as old as you are, and if I think it is proper 
293 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

to — to reprove any one, you ought not to stop 
me." 

“ Reprove ! ” repeated Donald, opening his eyes 
very wide. “ My conscience 1 What would it be 
if you really scolded ? ” 

Jane giggled naughtily, but grew sober again 
under mother's clear gaze. “ Mumsey, don't you 
think I might have a nice little home-made 
muzzle, that I could carry up my sleeve and slip 
on when Stanley comes in sight ? " 

The boys laughed, as she had expected, but 
mother’s brown eyes were looking out of the win- 
dow at something so far away that for the moment 
she seemed aloof from them all. 

“ Oh, mumsey, come back,” Jane said with a 
little shiver, jumping up to put her arm around 
her mother. “ Pie-ease, don’t go a million miles 
away like that all in a second. It makes your 
little twins feel lonesome, doesn't it, Spinksy ? ” 

Mother's gaze traveled back into the room then, 
and there was a smile in her eyes for all of them. 
“ I think you might have a Jane-made muzzle, 
dear,” she said simpty. “ I’m inclined to believe 
it doesn't do a bit of good to scold Stanley. I 
fancy his father makes that mistake. And poor 
Molly is young, and tries so hard, and — and just 
now they're all rubbing each other the wrong 
way.” 


294 


Carol Sees a Light 

“ I’m sorry,” Jane answered, this time in all 
seriousness. “ I thought Stan looked awfully sober 
when he came in. It made me cross, though, to 
think that he and Carol had been talking about 
Mary Brown. Oh, I haven’t read Carol’s note.” 

Jane pulled the note from its envelope with a 
little sense of relief. Just at that moment she was 
glad to get away from the subject of Stanley. 
Then, as the meaning of the letter written in 
Carol’s most illegible writing penetrated her 
mind, the color flew into her cheeks. 

“ For goodness’ sake, listen to this,” she said 
hastily, and read aloud : 

“ Dear Lady Jane : 

“ I’m a reformed character, and Stanley did 
it. He’s been so hateful about Mr. Prescott this 
afternoon that it made me see how I must seem 
about Mary Brown. Now this doesn’t mean that 
I promise to try to like her, but I won’t be horrid 
to her — nor about her. I’ll just keep out of her 
way as much as I can, that’s all. 

“ Please tell the honorable Mr. Spinksy that I’m 
sorry I was grouchy. 

“ Janey, I love you. You’re my chum, even if 
I’m not yours. 

“ Devotedly, 

“ Carol. 

“ P. S. I gave Stan such a going-over for the 
way he treats Molly and Mr. Prescott. I guess he 
was glad to get out of the house. C.” 

295 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Poor old Stan,” commiserated David. “ The 
way you girls get after any one when you don’t 
happen to like what they do is a caution.” 

“Well, now look here.” Jane was moved to 
immediate defense of herself and her friends. “ It 
isn’t just the girls. The boys always act as if they 
only put up with Stanley because he lives here, 
and goes to school with them, and he’s Molly’s 
brother, and they can’t shake him. I — I always 
feel it in the air,” she ended, nodding her head 
wisely. 

“ That’s so,” seconded Donald. “ It always 
seems to me that every one is expecting Stan to 
be on the grouchy side, and — well, he generally 
doesn’t disappoint them.” 

“ Here are four of us — for a start,” said mother 
as they left the library. “ Suppose for a while we 
all try expecting what we’d like to get from 
Stanley.” Her manner was so much that of one 
who had thought of it for the first time that Jane 
looked at her in surprise. 

“ Why, mother, you always do, and he’s awfully 
nice with you,” she said hastily. 

“ Well,” answered mother, and looked at her 
daughter with the smile that always warmed Jane’s 
heart, “ multiply that by four, then, and what’s 
the answer ? ” 


296 


CHAPTER XVI 


BROKEN ICE 

In Jane’s opinion there were weeks at a time 
when life seemed to consist almost wholly of get- 
ting up and going to bed, with a few hours of school 
and lessons to break the absolute monotony. 

“ It’s something like a treadmill — isn’t that 
what you call it ? — and the few good times stick 
up their heads like nice old lighthouses,” she re- 
marked, on her way to school one morning in 
February. 

“ Mixed metaphors,” exulted David, before his 
twin could have time to think better of it. “ Light- 
houses don’t grow on treadmills.” 

“ That’s poetic license,” Donald remarked. 
“ What’s your highest lighthouse since January 
first, Jane ? ” 

“ The Snowshoe Club picnic, of course.” Jane 
knew very well that there couldn’t be two opinions 
about this. “ Did you ever taste anything so good 
as that bacon we cooked out-of-doors, and wasn’t 
it perfectly thrilling to scoot over miles and miles 
of country that way ? ” 


297 . 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Miles and miles ! ” David echoed solemnly. 
a At least four, there and back.” 

“ Well, that’s two miles and two miles,” said 
Jane. “ I didn’t say how many, did I, Rob? ” she 
added, as that young gentleman, who had been 
watching for them, fell into step with her. 

“ Of course you didn’t. What was it all 
about ? ” 

“ Treadmills and lighthouses,” David answered 
promptly. “ I want you to understand that we 
converse on very important subjects on our way to 
school.” 

“ Talking about thrills at the Snowshoe picnic,” 
said Donald with a sly glance at Jane, “ Rob hasn’t 
seen my snapshot of David getting over the wire 
fence. It’s a peach, isn’t it, Jane ? ” 

“ I should say as much. You can’t tell the 
difference between Spinksy and the snowshoes and 
the fence. But have you seen any of our portrait 
studies, Rob ? Don and I have gone into the pho- 
tographic business. I help pose the subjects — or 
objects, which is it? — and he does the rest. He’s 
' taken some perfectly fine pictures of Molly and 
Polly and Carol and Mary. I didn’t suppose we 
could get Mary to sit, but she did.” 

“ What’s the latest thing in spell- breaking ? ” 
asked Rob, who still persisted in regarding Jane’s 
friendship with Mary Brown in this light. 

298 


Broken Ice 


“ Oh, the spell was in smithereens some time 
ago ; that is with me, I mean. Mary doesn’t seem 
to feel absolutely sure of the other girls yet, though 
I can’t see why, for they’re all lovely to her — all 
except Carol, of course.” The shrug with which 
Jane ended spoke volumes. 

“ Carol’s perfectly polite to her,” said David 
suddenly. “ And she was your very first friend 
here.” 

“ Oh, I know it,” agreed Jane wearily. “ Let’s 
talk about something else. It makes me cross to 
think I can’t have seventeen chums if I want to. 
When’s the next Glee Club rehearsal, Rob, and 
how much money do you suppose the concert will 
give us toward the new piano ? ” 

“ Great Scott ! ” exclaimed Rob. “ Your delight- 
ful conversation made me forget what I’ve been 
aching to tell you.” 

“ Do hurry up,” begged Jane. “ Is it a secret? 
We’re almost at the schoolhouse.” 

“ Not a secret, but I wanted to have the fun of 
telling you three first. I came out from the city 
late yesterday afternoon on the train with your 
dear Miss Brown. Of course I walked over home 
with her — she had about forty-leven packages to 
carry — and, of course, too, she made me come in 
and have cookies.” 

“ Was Mary there?” demanded Jane, whose im- 
299 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

patient spirit found it hard to stand so leisurely a 
narrative. 

“ Yes, and she kept slyly reminding Miss Brown 
that I was the manager of the Glee Club concert. 
I didn’t have an idea what she was driving at, and 
I was trying to go home.” Rob paused for what 
seemed to Jane an interminable time, but she was 
wise enough for once to keep quiet. 

“ Your * E. P.’ acted like a mischievous kid, and 
Miss Brown was more and more flustered, but, at 
last, she managed to get out that Mary had told 
her that the Glee Club was trying to raise money 
for a new piano,” Rob went on. “ And she said 
we ought to get a good one, and she’d see that we 
had whatever money was lacking for it. Truly I 
thought she would burst into tears before she got 
through, she was so embarrassed.” 

“ Goodness ! She must have a lot of money,” 
Jane said with conviction. “ You know Mary is 
tutoring with Hilda Prescott, and now she says 
that Miss Brown just insists that Hilda shall give 
Susan Trot lessons, too, and the bill is to be sent 
to her.” 

“ I can’t imagine nice little Miss Brown in- 
sisting upon anything,” said Rob. “ Is Susan 
pleased ? ” 

“ Well, if you knew what a crush she has on 
Hilda you wouldn’t ask that,” answered Jane, 
300 


Broken Ice 


stopping for a moment at the foot of the school 
steps. “ Won't there be skating this afternoon, 
boys? I'm wild to do something exciting." 

“ No, marm. The ice isn’t safe," Rob said with 
emphasis. “ I couldn’t possibly let you go on it 
to-day, my child. Besides, David and Don and I 
have other fish to fry, haven’t we, boys ? ’’ 

“Oh, what? Spinksy, you haven’t told me 
that you’re all going to do something this after- 
noon." Jane clutched her twin’s arm, but the 
warning clang of the first gong made them all 
race up the steps in a hurry. 

A little later, Jane, looking across the study- 
room, rested her gaze on Molly, whom she had not 
seen for several days, and it occurred to her all at 
once that Molly had grown thin and had lost her 
pretty color. 

“ She ought to come and talk to mother," Jane 
said to herself, suggesting her universal remedy for 
all woes. She wondered how it would seem to 
have a father who didn’t pay any attention to 
one’s troubles, and a brother who could be very 
nice if he tried, but who didn’t usually try. Her 
wandering gaze traveled across the room again 
and rested on Stanley, and she decided that he 
didn’t look any happier than his sister. “ Prob- 
ably they had some kind of a rumpus before they 
started for school," she thought, and then endeav- 
301 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

ored to fix her mind on lessons instead of on her 
friends. 

For some reason things didn’t go smoothly this 
morning, and, though she didn't put it into words, 
Jane's conviction that life was a bit monotonous 
grew stronger. Then, when she got home, it was 
a distinct grievance to find that mother was out, 
and that David and Donald were taking a hasty 
lunch in preparation for going somewhere. 

“ Why can’t you take me, too, boys ? ” she said 
pleadingly as she began on her own lunch. “ I 
could be all ready in a minute, and mother always 
likes to have me with you.” 

“ Why, we can't do anything about it,” David 
answered hastily. “ Rob has got to take that old 
gentleman, who’s been visiting them, back home, 
and he just asked Don and me to go to fill up the 
sleigh.” 

“ Oh,” said Jane, somewhat more satisfied, but 
still feeling ill-used. “ Anyway, I think Rob 
might take some boys who haven’t any sisters. 
I'm going to be horribly lonesome this afternoon 
with Carol going away — and Mary busy with 
Hilda — and Polly having mumps.” 

“ Poor little Jane ! ” Donald was half teasing, 
half sympathizing. “We shall be home at least 
an hour before supper, and then you can help me 
develop those last pictures we took.” 

302 


Broken Ice 


“ Oh, pooh, I’m tired of messing round with 
plates and films,” his cousin responded ungrate- 
fully. And then there was the jingle of approach- 
ing sleigh-bells, a shrill whistle from Rob, and 
after a few minutes, Jane, watching from the din- 
ing-room window, saw them drive away. 

“ Heigh-ho,” she yawned. “ I'm too sleepy to 
study or read. I ought to go out somewhere. I’ll 
take a walk, and see what Serena is doing.” 

She heard the familiar “ honk ” of the Heath 
automobile as she stepped into the hall, and she 
opened the door to meet Carol, who had come in- 
breathless haste to say good-bye. 

“ I shan't be back until Saturday night, Lady 
Jane, so please miss me dreadfully,” she said 
pleadingly. “ I'll see you in school Monday 
morning, and do, do save the afternoon for me. I 
shall be heart-broken if you don't.” 

“ I’m sorry — but I can't,” faltered Jane. “ I've 
promised Mary ” 

“ Fiddle ! ” Carol interrupted. “ You're always 
promising that girl something, and I hardly ever 
get you to myself. Put her off, Janey, and play 
with me instead. Oh, do, just this once.” 

“ I can't,” Jane persisted, hating to seem obsti- 
nate, but not knowing any other way out of it. 

“ Oh, all right,” Carol flashed back in a tone 
that meant it was all wrong. She was down the 
303 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

steps and in the machine before Jane could realize 
it, and there was not even the wave of a hand as 
the automobile rolled away. 

Jane, looking rather sober, started to close the 
door, but opened it again at sight of Molly, coming 
up the walk with her skates slung over her shoul- 
der. 

“ Why, Molly, are you going skating ? Rob 
says the ice isn’t safe.” 

“ Oh, he’s fussy about it. We can keep near the 
edge until we find out. Stan thinks it’s strong 
enough. Anyway, I’m going.” Molly’s cheeks 
were red, and her e}'es so bright that Jane 
wondered how she could have thought that she 
looked ill. 

“Jane, I’ve got to, because Stan insists upon 
going,” Molly went on, in a queer, excited way, 
so different from her usual manner that Jane 
looked at her in amazement. “ And I want you 
to go too, and help me keep him away from those 
boys — you know the ones I mean.” 

Jane nodded wisely. It gave her a little feeling 
of pride to have Molly, so much older than she, 
and such a leader among the girls, come to her for 
help. 

“ You and your mother always understand. I 
wouldn’t tell any one else, but father and Stan 
had such a talk this morning that it frightened 
304 


Broken Ice 


me.” The color burned more brightly in Molly’s 
cheeks, and her eyes looked unnaturally large. 
“ Father says that if he knows of Stan going with 
those boys any more he’s going to send him away 
to school. And — and any one would hate to be 
sent away from home as a punishment,” she ended 
with a little shivering sigh that touched Jane’s 
quick sympathies. 

“ Of course I’ll go with you. We can decide 
after we get over to the pond whether the ice is safe. 
But I don’t see how I’m going to help out about 
Stanley,” she said with a little frown of perplexity. 

“ Why, he likes you, and he thinks there’s no 
one equal to your mother, and — well, you know, 
any one is likely to do more for some one who 
isn’t his sister. You see — if I’m not alone — it 
won’t look so much as if I were tagging,” Molly 
explained haltingly. 

“ All right, I’ll go. And if the ice isn’t safe, 
perhaps I can obligingly sprain my ankle, so he’ll 
have to see that I get home safely. Sit down near 
the fire, Mollyolly, while I get ready. You keep 
shivering.” 

“ I know it, but I’m hot enough just now. 
Hurry, Jane, please.” Molly was walking up and 
down the room with a quite evident nervousness, 
and Jane scurried off up-stairs, feeling that action 
was better than words. 


305 


jane Stuart’s Chum 

She wished that mother were home — or even 
the boys. The thought of Hilda and Frederick 
Prescott came into her mind, but, of course, they 
wouldn’t have any influence with Stanley, who 
still persisted in avoiding them whenever he 
could. Anyway, she needn’t go on the ice unless 
it was perfectly safe. The weather had been grow- 
ing steadily colder for the last two days, she was 
sure. And why should Rob know more about it 
than Molly and Stan, who had always lived in 
Belhaven ? 

As they went by Frederick Prescott’s house on 
the way to the pond, Jane slackened her pace to 
wave her hand to Mary Brown, who was waiting 
on the porch for the door to be opened. “ Wish 
you a good lesson,” she called clearly, but even 
when Mary’s “Thanks. Where are you going ? ” 
came back, Molly did not turn her head, nor lessen 
her speed. Jane swung her skates in the air in an- 
swer to Mary’s question, and hurried on after 
Molly, who seemed so unlike herself that it was 
almost frightening. 

“ There’s Stan,” Molly said anxiously as they 
reached the pond. “ Do you — do you see those 
other boys, Jane? ” 

“ No. But there are lots of people skating. 
And the pond looks as hard — as hard as ice,” 
Jane answered with a little laugh. Then, as 
306 


Broken Ice 


Stanley came nearer, she called, “ Hello, Stan. I 
was hoping you were going to help me put on my 
skates. Do you think the pond is perfectly safe ? ” 

“ Of course. I shouldn’t let you and Molly 
come on it if I didn’t. There may be a place or 
two where it is a little shaky, but you just have 
to look out for those.” Stanley took a sweeping 
survey of the pond, then bent himself to the task 
of putting on Jane’s skates. 

“ You see,” began Jane confidentially, “ you and 
Molly are used to skating over deep water, but I’ve 
done the most of mine in a rink, and I’m rather a 
scare-cat when you talk about shaky places.” 

“ Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you — for a 
while, anyway.” Stanley finished Jane’s skates, 
and took another prolonged look around the pond 
as he rose to his feet. “ If you should go in I’ll 
pick you out all right. I know exactly what to do 
and how to do it.” 

Jane’s spirit rose in revolt, as it always did 
against the boastfulness of his tone and manner, 
but she crushed down everything she wanted to 
say, and thought hard about her mother. 

“Want any help, Molly?” she heard Stanley 
say to his sister, and then in a lower tone, “ What 
made you come? I thought you were on the sofa 
with a headache and a cold when I left the house.” 

“ I decided to try the fresh-air cure,” Molly an- 
307 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

swered, in a sort of tired voice, and Jane noticed 
that the vivid color had left her cheeks now, and 
she looked pale and listless. “ I’m going to leave 
you in Stan’s care, Jane, and I’ll go ahead, and see 
what I think about the ice.” And then she was 
off with slow, sweeping strokes. 

Jane watching, while Stanley tightened his 
skates, noticed that Molly kept well along the 
edge of the pond, and only made little experi- 
mental journeys toward the center. Presently she 
turned and came back, skating now with more of 
her accustomed energy. 

“ So far as I can see it’s all right. I don’t know 
why Rob should think it isn’t safe,” she said per- 
plexedly. 

“ Oh, Rob’s an old granny. We never should do 
any skating if we took his word for it,” her brother 
scolded. 

“ Well, anyway, don’t go into the center, please, 
Stan. Now that I’ve got Jane over here I feel an 
awful responsibility about her.” 

“ Fiddlesticks ! Jane’s a good sport. She isn’t 
afraid to go anywhere I’ll take her, are you, Jane ? ” 

Jane looked doubtful. “ Well, I don’t know. 
You see if mother had been at home to say I might 
come I should feel better. Of course no one would 
want to fall into the water without her mother’s 
permission.” She was rattling on absurdly, try- 
308 


Broken Ice 


ing to avoid offending Stanley, and conscious of a 
quaking fear at the idea of skating where it was 
in the least doubtful. “ Naturally, I shouldn’t mind 
an icy plunge, but I simply couldn’t stand it to have 
Rob say, 4 1 told you so,’ ” she went on with a 
laugh. “ And, of course, mother wouldn’t want 
me to take any risk.” 

“ Oh, all right, all right.” Stanley’s manner 
was rather ungracious. “ We’ll go around close to 
the shore a few times like good little children, and 
by that time probably you’ll have enough of it. 
Anyway I promised some of the fellows I’d see 
them here this afternoon,” he ended vaguely. 

“ Well, I call that a cool way of getting rid of 
me,” said Jane, making up a little face. She had 
seen Molly’s look of distress when Stanley men- 
tioned the other boys, and she was cudgeling her 
brain for some way out of it all. “ I suppose, 
though,” she added with a sudden return to meek- 
ness, “ that I can’t complain when I’m poking in, 
and spoiling your skating. Is the ice really a lot 
better in the center ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, but it isn’t bad around the edge, and, 
of course, I shouldn’t want you to do anything 
that your mother wouldn’t like. Come on ; we’re 
wasting time,” and Stanley, who had been circling 
around with some impatience, held out his hands 
to Jane, and swept her into a long, slow glide. As 
309 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

they rounded the curve of the pond she caught a 
glimpse of Molly, skimming along not far behind 
them, her face very white and sober. 

Jane tried to talk, but they were skating against 
the wind, and the sharp air cut her sentences in 
pieces. In spite of everything she was enjoying 
the tour around the pond, for Stanley was a splen- 
did skater, and in some way gave her great confi- 
dence in her own powers. 

“ You’re — you’re the best I ever — skated with,” 
she gasped, as they neared their starting point and 
slackened pace to wait for Molly. “I never knew 
before how well you do it.” Her enthusiasm was 
so genuine that Stanley’s gloom lightened a little. 

“ You never gave me a chance to show you. 
You’ve always skated with David or the other 
boys. Come on ; I’ll teach you a new stroke the 
next time around.” 

Molly, being asked to join them, preferred to go 
her own way. “It’s just as well we decided to 
keep near the edge,” she said before they started 
off again. “ One boy broke through a thin place 
near the center at the other end. If he hadn’t 
been going so fast and thrown himself forward, he 
would have gone in.” 

Circling the pond this second time, Jane was so 
eager over learning the new stroke, and found 
Stanley so good a teacher, that the moments flew 
310 


Broken Ice 


and they were back again at the starting point be- 
fore she realized it. 

“ Say, but you’re quick about getting hold of 
anything,” Stanley said with an eager admiration 
that pleased her. “ I believe we could do that to- 
gether like a breeze if we practice a little more. 
How ’bout it ? Are you game for another round ? ” 

Jane was beginning to be tired, but she pluckily 
refused to own it, even to herself. “ Come on,” 
she said, “ unless Molly wants to skate with you, 
and leave me to practice alone for a while.” 

But Molly, coming up just then, was quick to 
refuse again, and Jane and Stanley started off once 
more. 

This time she was so intent upon deserving 
Stanley’s praise that she grew a little self-con- 
scious, and didn’t do as well as she had before. 
Half-way around she begged to stop for a minute 
and make a fresh start, and, to her disgust, the 
little interval of rest gave opportunity for one of the 
Dallas Street boys, who had apparently just reached 
the pond, to skate up to them and speak to Stanley. 

“ I’ll be there pretty soon,” the latter answered, 
and Jane, noticing that he frowned, and spoke 
curtly, came to the sudden conclusion that he 
didn’t want to go, but hated to give in, and would 
probably be foolishly stubborn about it. 

“ Dear me ! I don’t see how mother could have 
3i 1 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

the courage now to expect from Stan what she’d 
want to get,” she said to herself with a sigh, as 
they swung around the end of the pond, and 
turned once more toward the place from which 
they had started. “ I can’t beg him to keep on 
skating with me ; and Molly looks like a ghost, 
and as if she’s all ready to cry.” 

Somehow, for both herself and Stanley, the zest 
of practicing the little dancing step seemed to be 
gone, and, what was worse, the more she tried to 
think of anything effective to say, the harder it 
became to speak at all. For the next few minutes 
they glided along in silence, and a feeling of dis- 
appointment grew in Jane’s heart. 

“ Hello ! There’s Mr. Prescott standing on the 
bank watching everybody. He can’t let us alone 
even when we’re out of school, can he ? ” remarked 
Stanley, with a return of his old disagreeable 
manner. 

Jane lacked the spirit to retort in her usual way 
even when so good an opportunity offered, so she 
kept still, and in another moment they had reached 
Molly, who had been circling aimlessly for some 
time. 

“ Jane’s tired, Molly. I can tell by the way she 
wabbles around. You’d better take her home,” 
Stanley said abruptly. “ Please tell your mother 
that I didn’t let you fall into the water, Jane.” 

312 


Broken Ice 


“ Why can’t you both come home with me, and 
we’ll make fudge? I’m all alone this afternoon, 
and I want some little playmates dreadfully.” 
Jane gave her invitation in what she felt was a 
truly tactful and spontaneous manner, and she 
had a delicious moment of thinking that Stanley 
was going to consent. 

Then he shook his head. “ You girls run along 
together,” he said stubbornly. “ Perhaps I’ll look 
in later.” 

“ Oh, come on with us, Stan,” pleaded Molly. 
And then, with a sudden whirl, she caught his 
arm and swung him, apparently by accident, out 
of Jane’s hearing. 

Jane gazed around the pond, at Mr. Prescott, still 
watching the skaters, at the sky ; anywhere so that 
she need not look at Stanley, who was facing in 
her direction. All at once it occurred to her that 
she might be taking off her skates, and she began 
immediately. 

“ Here, let me do that,” said Stanley, suddenly 
close beside her. “ I’ll take yours off in a minute, 
Molly.” He glanced up at his sister as he spoke, 
with a half-ashamed look on his face, but Molly, 
so pale now that it frightened Jane, stared straight 
ahead of her without a word. All at once her 
eyes filled with tears and she rubbed them away 
fiercely. 

3i3 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ You'll have to wait for me a few minutes. I 
can’t walk home like this,” she said in a strained 
voice, winking away the tears again. Then, be- 
fore Jane could answer, she wheeled abruptly and 
started off, apparently not noticing where she was 
going, and skating strongly as though only air and 
motion could help her gain her self-control. 

Stanley, having finished taking off Jane’s skates, 
bent to tighten his own. Jane would have thought 
his expression of gloomy determination funny if 
she hadn’t been so sympathetic over his sister’s 
troubles. 

She turned away from him to look at Molly, 
and wondered why she was skating straight toward 
the center of the pond when she had told them 
not to. Then it occurred to her that perhaps, be- 
cause she was crying, she didn’t know where she 
was going. And then, all at once, she saw Molly 
waver in her course, and throw up her hands and 
go down, clutching at the air, at the breaking 
ice — at nothing. 

The next few seconds made up a year in the 
calendar of Jane’s mind. She could remember 
afterward trying to scream, and making only a 
queer gurgle in her throat ; trying to move, and 
standing stock-still. Instinct told her that Stanley 
must have started toward that jagged hole in the 
ice, and yet there he was, close beside her, motion - 
3M 


Broken Ice 


less, a frozen horror in his face. She tried again 
to scream at him, but no sound came. 

Then the year being over, another one began, 
in which she found voice and motion, and shuffled 
over the ice in her slippery shoes toward the place 
where she had last seen Molly. She could hear 
some one screaming, and after a while she knew 
that it was her own voice calling Stanley. 

At last some one, not on skates, went flying past 
her, and a little farther on, dropped flat on the ice 
and shoved himself along cautiously. Then her 
vision cleared, and reason came back, and she 
knew that it was Mr. Prescott, and realized what 
he meant to do, and that he would need help. 

She rushed back to Stanley and shook him into 
life. There were others coming, but he was the 
nearest. “ If you don’t help, Molly’ll drown,” she 
shrieked, and then almost fell as he started forward 
with sudden violence. 

After that there were plenty to help, and Jane 
hung around behind the others, and tried not to 
see, and looked in spite of herself. It seemed ages 
before she could be sure that Mr. Prescott was 
safely clutching Molly when strong hands pulled 
him cautiously away from the gaping hole. Then 
a huddled group of people, carrying somebody, 
started toward the cottage at the end of the pond. 

“ They’ll take her into Mrs. Ware’s,” a cliatter- 

315 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

ing girl, whom Jane had never seen before, said 
nervously. “ Mrs. Ware, she's lived close by this 
pond for years, and she knows just what to do for 
drowned people. Probably some one's gone for the 

doctor already. P'raps it isn't much use ” 

and then she stopped, for the white-faced girl 
beside her had fled without a word. 

Straight home Jane ran in sheer, unreasoning 
terror. No one saw her when she reached the 
house, and she went into her own room, and threw 
herself on the couch and put both hands over 
her ears. “ Molly wouldn't have run away," she 
said with a little sob, and then shut her eyes, and 
buried her face in the cushions. 

She had no idea of time as she lay there, dread- 
ing, yet longing, to have some one come, and 
giong over and over the dreadful thing in her 
mind. 

Suddenly she heard the front door open, and 
David's voice calling her name ; then a quick rush 
up the stairs. 

“ Jane — Janey, where are you? " and when she 
answered in a miserable little voice, he was there 
beside her in a second. 

“ Are you hurt? Mother’s just heard you were 
with Molly, and she sent me to find you," he said 
anxiously, giving her a sudden bear-like hug. 

“ Tell — me about — Molly," Jane half whispered, 
316 


Broken Ice 


not daring to look at him until she should hear. 
“ Is she — is she dead ? ” 

“ She’s as — she’s as chipper as — as a robin,” 
answered David, trying to be as startlingly cheer- 
ful as possible, and succeeding to such good pur- 
pose that his twin sat up as if electrified, and then, 
hiding her head on his shoulder, burst into a storm 
of grateful tears. 

“Rainy weather, isn’t it?” murmured David, 
patting his sister’s back sympathetically, and wisely 
letting her cry it out. “ But you needn’t be so 
sorry she’s all right, because I exaggerated just a 
little. It seems she was coming down with grippe 
or something before she went out this afternoon, 
and Dr. Reed can’t tell yet what this may do for 
her.” 

“ I’m — I’m not sorry she’s all right, Spinksy 
Stuart,” sobbed Jane indignantly. “ I’m just as — as 
happy as I — can be. Where’s — where’s mother ? ” 

“ She’s with Molly. And Hilda Prescott’s there, 
too. And — say, Mrs. Janes, my shoulder’s get- 
ting awfully damp — they’re going to have a nurse 
to-night. Poor old Stan was hustling round, 
trying to do everything for everybody and look- 
ing so meek and frightened that you wouldn’t 
know him.” 

Jane sat up and wiped her eyes. “ I should 
think he’d better look meek,” she said emphat- 
3 *7 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 


ically ; “ any one who’s boasted ” and then she 

stopped talking and shut her mouth firmly. If 
she didn’t tell, no one would know that Stanley 
had not started to the rescue until she had fairly 
made him go. 

“ He’s down-stairs in the library,” continued 
David. “ Mother sent him over here for some- 
thing, and he wants to see you before he goes back. 
I — I think you’d better go kind of easy with him, 
Mrs. Janes.” 

“ Oh, Spinksy, I don’t want to see him just now ; 
must I ? ” Jane clutched her twin nervously. 

“ 1 Stuart obliges,’ Janesy.” 

“ Goodness ! You haven’t said that to me for 
ages, and it works just as it used to. It makes me 
feel as if I ought to carry a banner, and go gallop- 
ing down-stairs on a milk-white steed.” Jane was 
already across the room, sopping her eyes with 
cold water, and smoothing her hair. 

Two minutes later when she went into the library, 
Stanley turned from the window without even a 
greeting, and began to talk very fast. “ I just 
wanted to tell you,” he said in a queer, repressed 
voice, “ that, of course, I know what you’re think- 
ing about me, and I shan’t blame you a bit if you 
let every one know what a coward I was. Only 
—if you wouldn’t mind waiting until — until Molly 
gets over being so sick. You see she believes in 
3i8 


Broken Ice 

me — and it would hurt her to know that — that 
she would have drowned if I'd been the only 
one.” 

“ I don't want to tell. How can you think I'd 
be so perfectly horrid ? And no one knows what 
he will do until the time comes.'' Jane's words 
poured forth in a sort of impetuous rage which 
made Stanley blink. Now that she had seen his 
utter misery she was angry with herself for having 
blamed him. “ And — and after you got started 
you did everything — why, everything that any 
one could do.'' 

“ It's mighty good of you to try to make things 
easier for me,” said poor Stanley, with a pathetic 
gratitude, very different from his customary self- 
satisfied air. “ But I've always thought and — and 
said that I should be so brave, and now I know — 
I shouldn't.” 

“ You don't know anything about it,” Jane 
asserted almost snappishly. “ You've got — why, 
you've got all the rest of your life to show Molly 
how much you think of her. And no one can tell 
her — this — because no one knows except — except, 
perhaps, Mr. Prescott.” 

“ Oh, yes, he knows.” There was a sudden light 
in the boy's gloomy eyes. “ But he wouldn't have 
told, anyway. He talked it all out with me after 
we got Molly to the house. I guess — I guess I'm 
3i9 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

going to be different now. I don’t dare to say I 
am, though.” 

“ Nonsense ! Of course you are,” scolded Jane. 
Then with a great pretense of indignation, “ I shall 
just have it in for you, Stanley Oliver, forever, 
because you were so sure I should tell. I want 
you to understand that girls have a sense of honor 
as well as boys.” 

Stanley actually smiled a little at her emphatic 
manner. 

“ You can just bet I shall believe it — after this,” 
he responded fervently. 


320 


CHAPTER XVII 


CAROL KEEPS A PROMISE 

Whether, by some miracle, the shock of the 
icy plunge helped Molly to throw off the feverish 
cold which was making her ill no one could say. 
At any rate, contrary to all expectations, she was 
about the house again in a week, and so much 
more like her old cheerful self that her friends 
held glorification meetings over it. 

Even to his severest critics, Stanley’s state of 
almost pathetic meekness was appealing, and the 
Snowshoe boys, aided, perhaps, by certain appar- 
ently innocent suggestions from Mrs. Stuart, con- 
cluded that it was their part to stand by, and help 
on the good work. 

“That was certainly an awful jolt for poor old 
Stan,” remarked Ned, quite as if he had discovered 
the fact. 

It was a stormy March afternoon, and Ned and 
Jack, having been up-stairs with David and Don, 
had stopped for a moment in the library to speak 
to Mrs. Stuart and Jane. 

“ I never saw such a change in any one,” Jack 
said. “ And he’s just daffy over Mr. Prescott. 

321 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

Seems to think there was never any one like him. 
I hope it’ll last.” 

“ Three weeks already ; I believe it will,” said 
Mrs. Stuart, and then the conversation drifted to 
another subject, and presently the boys left. 

“ Mumsey,” said Jane, going to sit on the arm 
of her mother’s chair, “ you know how I — how I 
disapprove of slang, don’t you, but can you think 
of any word that could fit Stanley’s case better than 
4 jolt’?” 

“ My dear,” Mrs. Stuart’s face was as solemn as 
her daughter’s, “ I do know how it hurts your 
feelings to use, or to hear a single word that can 
in any way be called slang, but I must agree with 
you that in this instance the word ‘ jolt ’ is effect- 
ive.” By this time Jane was giggling and mother 
laughed, too. 

“ Mother, I do love you when you’re foolish like 
that. But really that awful shock has just shaken 
poor Stan out of all his old habits of thinking and 
talking.” Jane knew that Stanley had made a 
clean breast of what he called his cowardice to her 
mother, and it was a relief to have some one to 
whom she could talk freely about it. “ Molly says 
she didn’t have any idea that she was skating any- 
where except right around the edge of the pond 
that last time, but she hinted very strongly that 
she’d have been willing to go into the water for 
322 


Carol Keeps a Promise 

the sake of this change in Stan. And I believe 
slie would. 

“ I suppose, though, if I hadn’t waved my 
skates at Mary when she was going into Mr. Pres- 
cott’s house that afternoon everything might be — 
different,” she ended with a little shudder. “ You 
know Mr. Prescott came over because he was 
anxious.” 

Jane was silent for a few minutes, staring 
thoughtfully into the glowing fire, with her hand 
in mother’s. 

“ I wish something — not dreadful like this, of 
course — would shake Carol into being nice to 
Mary, and jolt Mary’s little mysterious ways out 
of her. I’m awfully fond of them both, but hon- 
estly, mother, I do get tired trying to divide my- 
self up between them. Carol sputters if she 
thinks she’s neglected, but Mary never says a 
thing. And they’re freezingly polite when we 
three happen to be together. I’m at the same old 
subject, Don,” she went on as her cousin came 
into the room. “ When you like so many it’s a 
perfectly dreadful problem to decide who’s your 
real chum.” 

“ Come on up-stairs and help me mount those 
last photographs,” he coaxed. “ I’ll make an 
official investigation of your state of mind, and 
later on I’ll present you with a picture of your 

323 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

chum. I must have it somewhere, for I’ve had a 
shot at nearly every one in Belhaven since 
Christmas.” 

“ Oh, pooh, you only say that to get me to fuss 
over those pictures with you. But don’t look at 
me like that. I’ll come.” 

“ I’m looking at you like that because I have 
an idea,” Donald said solemnly. “ A real idea — 
no, I’m not going to tell you what it is until 
I have time to work it out. But what will you 
bet that I won’t give you a photograph of — of 
said chum within — well, within two months ? ” 

“ Foolish ! How can you when I don’t know 
myself? You might just as well tell me your old 
idea now.” 

“ It isn’t an old idea. It’s a perfectly good new 
idea — at least, to me. And I shan’t give it away 
just yet. So there! But come on up. We’re 
wasting time.” 

Donald turned toward the door only to be nearly 
run over by Kenneth who thrust a letter at him. 
“ Mr. Chope brought it, and he thinks it’s from 
Aunt Caroline, and would you please give me the 
stamp,” he remarked all in one breath. “ He said 
he felt it in his bone that it was a very important 
letter, and that something bad would happen to 
me if I dropped it in the mud on my way from 
the barn.” 


324 


Carol Keeps a Promise 

“ Did he say which bone ? ” demanded David, 
who had closely followed his younger brother. 

Kenneth stared blankly for an instant. Then, 
“ It was his funny-bone, of course. That’s the 
one Mr. Chope always feels things in,” he answered, 
with such a satisfied assurance of having said ex- 
actly the right thing that Jane hugged him on 
the spot. 

“ It is from grandmother, and just listen to 
this,” said Donald suddenly. “ They’re in Paris 
now, and she says : 

“ * I told your grandfather this morning that I 
was tired of traveling and wanted to go home, and 
you should have seen his face. He began imme- 
diately to make plans about going into the woods 
this summer, and it made me feel that because he 
had been so nice about traveling with me I ought 
to do something for him. 

“ ‘ So I made up my mind — how is it you say it? 
— “ right off the bat ” — or the ball — or something 
of that kind — to go camping with him. Of course 
we shall be obliged to have a house, and I want a 
large, comfortable one, with plenty of chambers 
and bathrooms, not far from the railroad. We’ll 
take all the Stuarts, and Jane may invite her best 
chum so that we shall have another girl.’ ” 

Donald stopped to chuckle over Jane’s sup- 
pressed groan, then went on : 

325 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ 1 Of course, the minute I suggested my plan 
to your grandfather he began to make objections. 
Said he didn't believe I could find the kind of a 
house I wanted in any real camping-place, and 
that I'd probably be happier in a hotel. But ob- 
stacles never discourage me, and I’m bound that 
he shall have the kind of summer he wants.' 

“ That's all she says about that," said Donald ? 
suddenly catching Mrs. Stuart's eye and looking 
away again in a hurry. “ But here's a postscript. 

“ 1 P. S. Your grandfather insists upon my 
saying that you're not to depend too much upon 
this, as I may alter my mind. Why he thinks 
I'm so changeable I never can understand. Any- 
way, I've set my heart on this.' " 

“ ‘ All the Stuarts — all the Stuarts ' — that means 
me, too. Bully for Aunt Caroline ! I'm going to 
tell Judy," and Ken was off like a whirlwind. 

“ Say, that's some plan," observed David. 
“ Would you like it, little mother ? " 

“ Yes, I think so," Mrs. Stuart answered some- 
what doubtfully. “ I believe I shouldn't plan too 
definitely about it, though, as Uncle Stephen says, 
for I'm sure Aunt Caroline’s requirements as to a 
house would be hard to find. But then nothing 
seems to be impossible for Aunt Caroline," she 
ended with a twinkle in her eye. 

32b 


Carol Keeps a Promise 

“ Nice grandmother ! ” said Donald suddenly, 
tucking the letter in his pocket. “ Isn’t she lovely 
when she tries to be a real sport and use baseball 
language ? I’m going up-stairs and write to her 
now. Shall I tell her we all think it’s a great old 
plan?” 

“ Yes, for my part,” agreed Jane. “ But I see my 
finish trying to make up my mind which girl I 
shall invite.” 

“ Let me decide for you,” David coaxed. 

“ Oh, you ! I know which one you would say. 
And perhaps I shall, too. Anyway, I’m not going 
to lose any sleep over it, because it isn’t even 
April yet.” Jane got up from her chair near the 
fire, and went over to the window where her twin 
was standing. 

“ Spinksy, doesn’t this remind you of the way 
the rain poured down the day we first saw Carol ? ” 
she asked. “ Wasn’t she a little trump that day ? 
Dear me, talking about her makes me want to see 
her this minute. Don’t you think it’s holding up 
a little?” 

“ Mrs. Janes, you’re hoarse as a crow this min- 
ute. Mother wouldn’t think of letting you go 
out.” 

“ Don’t I know it ? ” Jane laughed softly at 
her twin’s worried face. “ Anyway I think Carol 
is a trump,” she said again after a little silence. 

327 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

She and David were alone in the room now, and 
she was staring fixedly through the misty window 
upon the rain-swept landscape. “ Look at the 
way she took that trick Rita Hastings and the 
other girls played on her. She never made any 
promises, or let us think that it was going to make 
any difference to her, but it has. It certainly has. 
I never think of not believing her now. Do you ? 

“ And I can’t see,” Jane went on, hardly waiting 
for David’s slow shake of the head, “ I can’t see 
that she’s a bit less fun, either. Shejusthasto 
describe things entertainingly. She can’t help it. 
You know Miss Ball thinks Carol’s themes are 
quite remarkable for their — how is it she said it ? 
Oh, something about her power of narration being 
so unusually well developed.” 

“ Uh-huh. Carol’s got that all right,” agreed 
David, and then mother called Jane, and the little 
confab was over. 

This year March blew itself lustily out of ex- 
istence with no suggestion of the proverbial lamb, 
and, to prove the fickleness of the New England 
spring, April turned an unusually cold shoulder 
for two weeks, and then became suddenly and 
continuously warm, with thunder and lightning, 
instead of soft, awakening showers. 

One afternoon toward the end of the month, 
Carol, going home after doing an errand for her 
328 


Carol Keeps a Promise 

mother, saw Rita Hastings run out of her own 
house, stop suddenly as she reached the sidewalk, 
and begin to fumble agitatedly with her dress. 
Even from a little distance, Carol could see that 
she was arrayed in something very new and up to 
date, and as conspicuous as her dresses generally 
were. 

Being too near to go another way without giving 
Rita the satisfaction of thinking she was avoided, 
Carol kept calmly on, wondering meanwhile why 
the girl should stamp her foot and look so excited. 
She meant to go by with just the indifferent nod 
she was in the habit of giving Rita, but something 
in the latter’s expression of helpless distress made 
her slacken her pace and say hesitatingly, “ What’s 
the matter ? ” 

“ Can’t you see ? ” sputtered Rita, holding up a 
part of her skirt and looking so appealing that the 
other girl ignored her sharp manner. “ That 
goose of a dressmaker looped this up and didn’t 
sew it strong enough. I forgot the skirt was so 
tight, and I stepped too far and ripped it all out, 
and now, oh, dear, I shall lose the train.” 

“ You have twenty minutes before the two fifty- 
five,” said Carol consulting her little watch. 
“ Can’t some one in the house fix it for you ? ” 

“ No one at home,” snapped Rita, trying hard to 
keep back the tears, and only half succeeding. 

329 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ That is, just my grandmother and the maid, but 
they wouldn’t have an idea how to do it. I might 
as well give up going. If I miss this train I can’t 
meet my friends in the city, and that ends it.” 

Carol was glad afterward that she didn’t spend 
more than one valuable moment making up her 
mind. “ If you’ll trust me,” said confidently, “ I 
can do it for you. At least I can fix it so that it 
will look all right for this afternoon.” 

“ You ! ” Rita said incredulously. “ Oh, would 
you really ? You’re a perfect angel. But there 
isn’t time.” She was leading the way into the 
house as she talked, with a queer, half-startled, 
wholly ashamed expression on her face. 

“ Don’t stop to talk. Pins first, and a needle, 
and some silk as near that shade as you can find. 
And while you’re getting them I want to use your 
telephone. 

“ There ! ” she triumphed, two minutes later. 
“ I remembered that mother was going to send 
down to that train anyway, and I’ve told the 
chauffeur to stop for you. That’ll give us time.” 

Rita watched with widening eyes while Carol 
draped and pinned and sewed with quick artistic 
fingers, and then stood back to judge the effect. 

“ It’ll do,” she said with a little sigh of relief. 
“ It isn’t perfect. Perhaps I could — no, there’s 
the auto, and Thomas never has a minute to 
330 


Carol Keeps a Promise 

spare.” She was pushing Rita toward the door as 
she talked, and the latter, half protesting, was try- 
ing to voice her thanks. 

“ Don’t stop to say a word,” Carol went on per- 
emptorily, “ and for goodness’ sake, take little 
steps or it’ll all be out again.” She hustled the 
other girl out of the house and into the machine. 
To her own surprise she even gave her a smile and 
a wave of the hand as the automobile glided away. 

If any one had told her that she would be help- 
ing Rita Hastings out of a difficulty she wouldn’t 
have believed it, she was thinking as she started 
toward home again. “ It’s just like me after I’ve 
snubbed her for four or five months to turn around 
and act as if I were her best friend. I really can’t 
be depended on — yet.” 

She was crossing the street at this moment, and 
a sudden idea made her halt in the middle of it 
and stand there, perfectly still. So absorbed was 
she that she did not notice that an old man pulled 
up his horse with a sudden jerk, and was peering 
out of the carriage at her with a kindly, curious 
gaze. 

How was she ever going to get even with Rita 
after this, she was asking herself sternly. She had 
vowed that she would, but one couldn’t, of course, 
get back at any one after doing her a favor. Well, 
anyway 


33i 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ P’raps you wouldn’t mind movin’ an inch or 
two one way or t’other,” Mr. Chope suggested with 
his usual gentle courtesy. “ Sally and me, we 
ain’t used to takin’ to the sidewalk jest here, but 
we’d do anything to oblige short of climbin’ a 
barb-wire fence, or somethin’ of that kind.” 

Carol looked a little startled. “ I didn’t know 
I was holding up the traffic,” she said with a 
laugh, and then walked along to rub Sally’s nose, 
an attention which that intelligent creature ac- 
knowledged by jerking her head high in air and 
shaking it vigorously. 

“ Mercy ! I don’t believe she likes me.” 

“ Oh, sure she likes you. She wouldn’t show 
such bad taste. She probably thought a fly lit on 
her,” Mr. Chope responded amusedly. “ Sally’s 
eyesight ain’t what it was, and it must be gittin’ 
pretty bad when she can’t tell a girl from an in- 
seek. I’m thinkin’ ’bout gittin’ glasses for her.” 

“ Mr. Chope,” Carol demanded with a sudden 
gravity that swept the dawning laughter from the 
old man’s face, “ Mr. Chope, suppose you didn’t 
like any one, and that person didn’t like you, and 
you were both — well, rather horrid to each other. 
Then suppose that the other person played a trick 
on you that made you feel perfectly unhappy — 
only, of course, you wouldn’t let any one know 
about that ” — Carol’s voice trembled a little, and 
332 


Carol Keeps a Promise 

the face of the listener assumed an expression 
of deep sympathy, — “ and you felt as if you must 
get it back at her in some way. And then sup- 
pose you had a chance to do that person a favor 
and you did it, would you still think you could 
get even with her after that ? " 

“ Well, now, if that ain't one o' them hypocrit- 
ical questions sich as they have in court I miss my 
guess," responded Mr. Chope, manifestly delighted 
with the judicial importance thrust upon him. 
“ Now, let me see. On the first count, bein’ as 
you was both hateful, you stand 'bout even. On 
the second count, she clipped ahead o' you — that 
is ef you reckin it bein' ahead when you make 
another feller unhappy, which this court don’t. 
On the third count " — the old man paused for 
a long breath, and fixed his twinkling eyes on 
Carol's downcast face — “ on the third count, 
which, if I remember right, was doin' the other 
party a favor, you scooted so far ahead of her that 
she's goin' to find it mighty diffikilt ever to git 
within hailin' distance agin. When did it hap- 
pen ? I bet she ain't got over hatin’ herself yit." 

“ But — but I didn't do it to make — to make her 
feel uncomfortable," Carol responded, looking at 
him with a puzzled frown. 

“ Of course not. 'Twouldn't hev worked if you 
had. And now, hevin' set your pace, so to speak, 
333 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

don’t you let her kitch up to you.” And Mr. 
Chope, realizing the value of stopping at the right 
moment, flicked Sally gently with his whip, and 
gave the reins an encouraging jerk. 

“ Good-bye. I’m bettin’ on you,” he called back 
with one of his cheeriest smiles, and Carol waved 
her hand with a sudden sense of comradeship. 

For some reason an unwonted glow of satisfac- 
tion took possession of her as she walked on ; a 
feeling which she attributed to the fact that some- 
thing very tiresome was off her mind. It was sud- 
denly quite clear to her that, with the passing of 
the months, her resentment against Rita and the 
other girls had grown less, and the keenness of 
her desire to get even had worn away. A hazy 
notion flitted through her mind that, perhaps, she 
had something for which to thank them. “ Any- 
way I’m glad I did that for Rita,” she assured her- 
self, “ and I hope she’ll remember to take short 
steps. But — if her conscience pricks — I’m not the 
least bit sorry.” 

It was an exceedingly sultry day for April, and 
once in the house, Carol felt an unusual desire to 
stay there. She had promised Jane and some of 
the other girls to meet them at the little club- 
house, and, being almost fiercely determined to es- 
tablish a reputation for dependability, she didn’t 
dare to break her word. It would be a relief, she 
334 


Carol Keeps a Promise 

was thinking, as she hurried through her lunch, if 
the time ever came when they wouldn’t ask her 
over and over again whether she really meant to do 
what she had agreed. “ Jane and David don’t/’ 
she said to herself with a little throb of gratitude. 
“ And I thank Jane by being a perfect wretch 
about Mary Brown.” Her face grew very sober. 
“ Dear me ! It’s dreadfully hard trying to reform 
a person, particularly when it’s yourself,” she 
thought with a sigh. 

“ I’m going over to the little house with some of 
the girls, Elise,” she said to her mother’s maid, as 
she finished trying on a summer dress which the 
girl was altering. “ I don’t want to disturb mother 
when she has the headache, so will you please tell 
her?” 

“ It looks like rain, Miss Carol. I’m afraid we’re 
going to have another one of those dreadful show- 
ers.” 

“ Oh, I guess not. Anyway, I shall get under 
shelter before it begins, and we shall be as safe 
there as anywhere.” 

Carol hesitated a moment on the door-steps. The 
sky was dark, but once or twice it had looked like 
this, and then had cleared again. One couldn’t 
tell anything about the weather this spring. She 
wondered if it would be any use to telephone Serena 
or Polly, who were the only ones she could reach 
335 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

in that way. Then it occurred to her that each 
one of the girls had spoken of having to do some 
errand before reaching the little house. “ Proba- 
bly they're all there by this time/' she decided, 
“ and I don't want to be the only one to back out." 

As she approached the bay berry-can die house 
she had a momentary impulse to stop at the door 
and ask if Mary had gone, but she repressed it and 
hurried by without even a glance. “ Of course 
she's over there by now, and, anyway, it might be 
too great a shock for her to have me do anything 
half-way decent." Deep in her heart there was a 
feeling of shame in connection with Mary Brown, 
though it was only in her moments of utmost can- 
dor that she confessed it, even to herself. She 
tried to think that the other girl disliked her, but 
she could not help knowing that two or three 
times Mary had tried in a shy sort of way to be 
friendly. 

“ My goodness, I'm going to be drenched as sure 
as the world ! " she said aloud as she realized for 
the first time what progress the storm was making. 
She was almost at the little bridge, and she thanked 
her stars that it was no longer the unsteady log of 
former days. To her dismay there were frequent 
flashes of lightning, and the sullen muttering of 
the thunder was almost continuous. She had 
never been afraid before in a thunder-shower, but 
33b 


Carol Keeps a Promise 

now she found herself shaking nervously, and 
dreading the lightning. 

At last she put her head down, and ran toward 
the house, stumbling now and then, and gasping for 
breath. It had never seemed so far away before. 
By some miracle the rain still held off, and she be- 
gan to hope that she should get safely in the house 
before the first drops fell. She had supposed that 
she should find some one watching for her, and 
that the door would be flung open. Instead it re- 
mained tightly closed, and, to her surprise, the 
protecting shutters which the boys had thought 
necessary had not been opened. 

“ Oh, dear, oh, dear / 7 she said nervously, fum- 
bling for the door-key which she always wore 
around her neck, but before her searching hand 
realized the truth, she had a sudden vivid mem- 
ory of taking off the key when she tried on her 
dress. 

“ Now I am in for it / 7 she murmured, stunned 
into a degree of calmness by the awfulness of this 
discovery. And then she gave a stifled shriek as 
Larry, big and friendly, and manifestly uneasy, 
came bounding from somewhere, and huddled as 
close to her as he could get. 

“ Oh, Larry, Larry, you good old watchman ! 
David told you to take care of the girls, didn't he ? 77 
she said, hugging the soft, tawny head, and not 
337 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

complaining at being almost crowded out of the 
slight shelter the doorway afforded. “ D-don’t 
mind me,” she went on whimsically, though her 
teeth were chattering from nervousness. “ I — I 
believe you’re as scared as I am. We might run for 
it, old fellow,” and then, obeying a sudden impulse, 
she started off* swiftly, calling the dog as she ran. 

They had almost reached the little bridge before 
the first drops fell, but, by the time they had 
crossed, there was an army of drops, and then 
sheets of rain. Lightning tore the sky apart, and 
the terrific thunder seemed never to stop. All 
about them the trees swayed and cracked. Carol 
ran staggeringly, blinded by the rain, shrinking 
from the vivid lightning, vaguely comforted by 
the companionship of Larry. 

Suddenly, through the mist, came another figure, 
flying toward her, and Carol, too dazed to feel 
surprise, saw that it was Mary Brown. 

“ I’m — I’m glad you’ve got so far as this. Come 
on,” panted Mary, turning toward home again and 
taking Carol’s arm strongly. Though she was 
streaming with rain, and buffeted by the wind, 
there was no fright in her voice or manner, and 
Carol felt at once soothed and protected. 

“ It was — was awful,” she began piteously, and 
would have gone on gasping and chattering, but 
Mary stopped her. 


338 


Carol Keeps a Promise 

“ Don’t talk ! Run ! ” shesaid brusquely. “ My 
house isn’t far.” And then she, also, saved her 
breath for the exertion she was making. 

The fury of the storm had spent itself by the 
time they reached the house, and they, too, were 
spent, and fairly dragged themselves up the walk, 
under the dripping trees, with the dejected Larry 
closely following. 

Long before Carol could in the least degree throw 
off her exhaustion, Mary was chattering, laughing, 
planning for the comfort of her guest ; an amazingly 
different girl from the one the Belhaven people 
had known. 

“ There’ll be a hot bath ready for you in two 
minutes, and you’re to put on some of my clothes 
and stay on this couch until you’re rested. And 
Brownie is getting something hot for us both to 
drink.” 

Twenty minutes later Carol was leaning against 
a heap of cushions, sipping hot milk and trying 
to find the answer to certain questions which would 
pop into her mind. Why should Mary Brown, 
always so plainly dressed, be the owner of the de- 
lectable garments of lace and silk which she had 
so freely bestowed upon her guest ? Also, how had 
it happened that she had started for the little house 
when she must have known that the storm was 
inevitable ? 


339 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Are you all warm and comfy ? ” demanded 
Mary, coming back into the room. “ I’m going to 
have some milk now. Just the minute the rain 
stops, Fanny is going over to tell your mother 
where you are.” 

“ How did you happen to — to go out in such a 
storm ? ” Carol asked in a small, tired voice. 

“ Why, I saw you go by. I knew none of the 
other girls had gone. And — and I fancied you 
might be very lonely and frightened over there all 
by yourself.” The color came into Mary’s cheeks. 
She was plainly embarrassed at having to tell of 
her own thoughtfulness. 

“ Do you mean — do you really mean that you 
went on my account, Mary Brown ? ” Carol sat up 
straight in her excitement, and the cup and saucer 
tilted so dangerously that the other girl laughed, 
and bent toward her. 

“ Oh, well, it wasn’t actually raining when I 
started,” she said, almost apologetically. “ I 
thought perhaps I might get there before it began. 
There was something about it — the clouds, the 
feeling in the air — that made me want to get out 
and run,” she ended with a dreamy look in her 
dark eyes. 

“ T-take this cup, pie-ease,” said Carol ab- 
ruptly. “ I’m — I’m going to cry.” 

“ What for?” demanded Mary, almost tipping 
340 



“you went on my account?’ 


\v 






















Carol Keeps a Promise 

over her own cup in the effort to save the other one. 
“ Dear me, I’d rather it would rain water than milk.” 

Carol laughed instead of crying. Then, “ Why 
did you care whether I was frightened when I’ve 
been such — such a miserable, hateful, wretched 
little beast about you? ” 

Mary looked at her in sudden, grave silence. 
“ Will you please answer a question for me first? ” 
she begged. “ Why do you dislike me so much? 
Is it — is it because I’m poor, and — and not at all 
pretty, and rather — disagreeable ? ” 

The enumeration of her defects was made with 
slow seriousness, and Carol’s eyes opened wider 
with each item. 

“ Goodness, no,” she answered with convincing 
bluntness. “ Why should I care for any of those 
things — even if I thought them, which I didn’t. 
All I was afraid of was that Jane Stuart would end 
by liking you better than she does me, and — I’m 
— a jealous little — cat. At least, I was, but I’m 
not any more. If she doesn’t like you better, I’ll 
— I’ll pinch her.” 

“ Oh, then everything’s all right,” said Mary in 
a relieved tone, smiling a little at Carol’s absurdity. 
“ Jane doesn’t have to like me better, and she 
shan’t be pinched. But I seem to need all the 
friends I can have. Perhaps — now — you and I — 
can like each other a little more.” 

34i 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

There was a wistful appeal in the other girl’s 
eyes, a certain charm in her manner which made 
Carol’s impulsive affection leap forth in response. 
“ Oh, Mary, come here on the couch as close as 
you can get without spoiling this gown. I — I 
want to hug you. I’m going to like you — hard. 
I can feel it coming and ” she stopped sud- 

denly at the sound of voices on the piazza. 
“ There’s Jane,” she went on quickly. “ Don't 
move. Let’s stay as we are, and we’ll give her the 
surprise of her life.” 

An instant later Jane, with her hair blown in 
wisps about her face, and her gray eyes very big 
and dark, knocked and entered almost at the same 
moment. 

“ Excuse me for walking right in. Miss Brown 
called me as I was going by. She’s down on the 
piazza giving Larry the biggest bone you ever saw, 
and — for pity’s sake, what has happened ? ” 

There was an explosion of laughter from the 
other two girls, and Carol released Mary from the 
tight embrace in which she was holding her. 

“ Goodness ! I thought you were never going 
to stop talking long enough to see the point,” she 
said rubbing her forehead wildly. “ And Mary’s 
hair was tickling me so that I almost screamed. 
Lady Jane, I’ve reformed, and Mary and I are 
friends. And — and I’m not going to try to be 
342 


Carol Keeps a Promise 

your realest chum, because I know it’s Mary.” 
Her gay voice faltered a little at the end, but she 
was smiling still. 

“ Not at all,” said Mary promptly, looking so 
radiantly happy that Jane could hardly believe 
her eyes. “ It’s Carol, of course.” 

“ Where do I come in ? ” Jane asked meekly. 
14 If you both back out I shall be the chumless 
girl.” She was looking dreamily at her two 
friends as they sat side by side on the couch, and 
wondering why she had never realized before that 
they resembled each other. 

“ Don’t look at us any more in that squinty, ar- 
tistic way, Lady Jane. It always makes me feel 
that my face is dirty, but it can’t be to-day, after 
all that rain water.” 

“ What under the sun made you go, Carol, when 
there was such a shower coming?” Jane ques- 
tioned. “ Mother wouldn’t let me stir a step.” 

“ My mother was asleep,” admitted Carol. 
“ And I didn’t know how bad it was until after I 
started. But, even after I knew, I had to go.” 
Carol tried her best to look very serious, and 
failed so utterly that the other girls giggled. “ I 
had to prove, Jane Stuart, that I was ab-so-lutely 
the only girl in the crowd whose promise could be 
depended upon.” 


343 


CHAPTER XVIII 

WHO IS SYLVIA ? 

It was Judy’s idea originally, but it came from 
a poem which Susan Trot admired very much, 
and had copied with great care into a blank book. 
Judy admired it, also, and read it over and over 
until it stuck in her mind, and she could not for- 
get it even if she had wished. At last she took to 
singing it to tunes of her own composition, and 
Jane declared that her young sister warbled even 
in her sleep : 

“ May-baskets ! Tell me, Lovers, why are they 
No more on knob or shining knocker hung? 

That sweetest custom of a simpler day 

Has passed. Is then the world no longer young ?’ 7 

It was about the first of April when Judy began 
singing it, and by the last week of that month 
each member of the family, willingly or unwill- 
ingly, had learned it, too. Jane found herself 
chanting it while she made her bed, and Donald, 
who really could sing, interspersed his photo- 
graphic work with tuneful arias. Kenneth, feed- 
ing his hens, was heard to demand expressively, 
“ Is then the world no longer young?” while 
344 


Who is Sylvia? 

David hummed the words over and over, mostly 
on one note. 

Jane, going into Judy's room a few days before 
the first of May, found her sister and Marcia Holt 
completely absorbed in the manufacture of tissue- 
paper flowers, more remarkable for their size and 
gorgeousness than for their likeness to nature. 

“ Hello, Marcia. What’s happening ?” she de- 
manded in the friendly way that made all the 
younger girls adore her. 

“ May-baskets,” explained Marcia, whereupon 
Jane groaned, and had to finish the poem in her 
mind before she could speak again. 

“ Judy Stuart,” she said in an aggrieved tone, 
“ if you ever learn a poem, and — and wish it on 
all the family again, I don’t know what I shall do.” 

“ I don’t care if I did,” Judy answered coolly. 
“ It’s a beautiful poem, and it gave me the idea of 
making May-baskets. And now ” — her expression 
was distinctly one of triumph — “ every one’s doing 
it. You’re all out of style if you don’t.” 

“ Goodness gracious ! How fashionable we are. 
Who’s making ’em besides you and Marcia ? ” 

“ We-ell, Miss Trot’s making one for Hilda Pres- 
cott, and one for Miss Brown, because they’ve both 
been so good to her. And Ken’s got two or three 
started, and ” 

“ Any of my set ? ” interrupted Jane. 

345 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

“ Not that I know,” Judy admitted with some 
reluctance. “ Lots of the girls our age, aren’t 
there, Marcia?” 

“ Uh-huh,” responded Marcia, grouping colors 
with a lack of taste that set Jane’s teeth on edge. 

Out in the hall a few minutes later Jane found 
David monotonously announcing to the world, 
“ That sweetest custom of a simpler day has 
passed.” 

“ Oh, for pity’s sake, I wish it had,” cried Jane, 
and started to run down-stairs, but stopped half- 
way, seized by a new, and what she considered a 
brilliant, idea. 

“ Spinksy,” she cried forcibly, “ you know the 
flowers the High School pupils are going to give 
Miss Brown because she helped so much about the 
piano. Well, why don’t we give ’em in a May- 
basket ? ” 

Donald, coming out of his room, caught the last 
word, and went on melodiously, “ Tell me, Lovers, 
why are they ” 

“ If any one sings that thing again,” began Jane 
fervently, “ I shall have hysterics. Now listen, 
boys.” 

“ Good idea,” applauded David, when his twin 
had finished. “ Come on, all of us, over to Rob’s. 
He’s chairman of the committee, and he’s probably 
never thought about a ” 


34b 


Who is Sylvia? 

“ Sh ! ” said Jane, suppressing the last word with 
a forceful hand. “ We’ll have to write it for him 
or we shall all burst into song. Come on.” 

Jane’s idea proving highly acceptable, she and 
Carol, David and Rob were appointed a presenta- 
tion committee, and left to carry out their own 
ideas as to details. There wasn’t much time before 
May-day, but, fortunately, the girls found a pretty 
basket at the “ Nutshell,” and Jane gilded it. 
Carol, making a hurried trip to the city, happened 
upon a changeable ribbon shading wonderfully 
from lavender to gold, and with this tied in an 
airy bow, and the basket filled with purple hya- 
cinths and yellow jonquils, there could have been 
nothing lovelier. 

It was the early evening of the first day of May 
when the four conspirators left the Stuart house to 
hang the basket for “ dear Miss Brown.” Jane 
had decreed that they should all wear dark clothes 
so that they might hide behind the trees near the 
house, and see how the fragrant gift was received. 

The three others concealed themselves, and Rob 
hung the basket on the door-knob, and rapped 
loudly. Then he almost fell down the steps in his 
efforts to be quiet and go quickly to the tree he 
had selected. Jane, trying to stifle her own laugh- 
ter, hushed Carol, who was giggling nervously 
over Rob’s gyrations. 


347 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

Mary opened the door, but Miss Brown was 
close beside her, and talking breathlessly as usual. 

“ Fm sure I heard a knock — unless I dreamed 
it — I didn’t know I was asleep, but I had just shut 

my eyes for a moment, and Oh, my dear, 

what is that wonderful fragrance, and where does 
it come from? ” 

As the door opened, disclosing no one, the old 
lady in her surprise had walked directly past the 
basket, and was out on the piazza, peering into the 
darkness. 

“ Come in ; it’s another May-basket, Brownie. 
Only this time the flowers are real,” said Mary ex- 
citedly. “ Here’s a card.” They were standing 
under the light in the hall, and Jane could see 
that, for the first time since she had known her, 
Mary was wearing a white dress, and looking very 
girlish and even pretty. At almost the same in- 
stant she realized that Miss Brown had on the 
purple satin gown in which she had first seen her. 

“ 1 To dear Miss Brown, who has helped to give 
our school one of its greatest treasures, from the 
pupils of the Belhaven High School,’ ” read Mary, 
and then she gazed at the old lady with the queer 
little smile which made her look, as Rob said after- 
ward, like a mischievous child. 

To the horror of the concealed watchers, Miss 
Brown suddenly burst into tears. 

348 


Who is Sylvia? 

“ Oh — oh, I can’t — stand it any longer,” she 
sobbed, clutching wildly for a handkerchief. 
“ Dear me ! I shall spot this gown if I cry on it. 
Oh, here’s my handkerchief — but I can’t stop to 
cry. I’m going straight over to see Mrs. Stuart — 
and Jane — and all of them. You mustn’t hinder 
me.” She was dabbing her eyes with one hand, 
and trying to pick up the shining folds of her gown 
with the other. Her manner was a strange mix- 
ture of pleading and determination. 

“ You will let me off from my promise, won’t 
you, dear?” she went on imploringly. 

“ Yes, Brownie, I will.” Mary soothed her with 
little pats and cuddlings, and, at her answer, the 
old lady was quite herself again, and started 
toward the piazza. 

“ Oh, wait,” Mary expostulated. “ You can’t 
go in that dress, can you ? And — and, Brownie, 
I couldn’t possibly go with you. I — I couldn’t 
bear it to be there while you tell them.” Mary 
was nervously clutching the old lady’s shoulders, 
and Jane could see distinctly that she looked as 
though she were ready to cry. 

“ There, there, don’t you worry one mite.” 
Miss Brown gently freed herself, and gave Mary 
a hug. “ Of course you don’t need to go, and I can 
turn up my gown. I’ll run in and get a shawl.” 

They both stepped out of sight, and in that 
349 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

brief moment the four onlookers fled as if by a 
concerted movement. Neither of them spoke or 
stopped until they had nearly reached the Stuart 
house. Then Jane halted, and issued directions 
in a whisper, though no one was within ear-shot. 

“ Carol and I can go the rest of the way alone, 
and you boys go back and meet Miss Brown — -just 
accidentally, you know, and bring her over.” 

A quarter of an hour later when Miss Brown, 
chatting excitedly to the boys, arrived in the 
library, Mrs. Stuart was reading aloud to her own 
children, Carol and Donald. It was warm for a 
May evening, but the window opening on the 
piazza gave entrance to a soft air full of the prom- 
ise of spring. 

“ Mrs. Stuart and Jane — and all of you,” began 
Miss Brown, hardly waiting for a more formal 
greeting, “ I’ve come to tell you something, and 
I’m glad there’s so many here. I just can’t stand 
it a minute longer to have you all think that — that 
I’m the one who’s been giving this money for the 
piano, and the Christmas tree, and some other 
things. Instead — it’s Mary. And it ain’t Mary 
either, because her name’s Sylvia Mary Browning. 
But being so, she had a right to Mary Brown, of 
course.” 

The old lady paused to get her breath, and 
Jane, glancing at her mother, saw a puzzled ex- 
350 


Who is Sylvia? 

pression flit over her face at mention of Mary’s 
real name. 

“ Now if you’ll just let me say it my own way,” 
Miss Brown went on apologetically, “ I want to 
begin right at the beginning, and tell the whole 
thing. You see it was last June that I saw her 
first when she was lying in bed in the sanitorium, 
next door to my little house, and looking like 
a poor little white ghost of a girl. I knew some- 
thing about her; that there’d been an awful fire 
in the hotel where she and her aunt and uncle 
and cousin had been staying, and she and a maid 
they had was the only ones of the party saved.” 

Miss Brown looked about her as if appealing for 
sympathy. There was a pretty color in her cheeks, 
and her blue eyes shone. 

“ Probably you read about it in the newspapers,” 
she said to Mrs. Stuart, and, to Jane’s surprise, 
mother nodded in assent. 

“ I remember,” she said. “ There were pictures 
in the paper, and this cousin was described as a 
very beautiful, talented girl who had a brilliant 
future.” 

Miss Brown’s face grew very sober. “ P’raps 
she had,” she responded almost curtly, “ and then 
again p’raps she hadn’t. At any rate, those rel- 
atives hadn’t done right, because they’d had the 
care of Sylvia Browning ever since she was a tiny 
35i 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

baby, and they’d used most of the income of the 
money her father had left her ” — Miss Brown 
stopped to take a long breath, and then repeated 
impressively — “ most of the income of her money 
on themselves and their daughter. And they 
hadn’t troubled themselves to give Sylvia advan- 
tages, nor let her know many people, and she, poor 
little thing, never dreamed the money was hers.” 

Jane, watching Miss Brown with fascinated gaze, 
got up softly and took a chair a little nearer to her. 
As she passed the open window she heard a step 
on the piazza, and looked out to see Mr. Chope’s 
wrinkled face gazing interestedly at the absorbed 
group. 

“ After they got her out of the hotel,” continued 
the old lady, perfectly unmindful of everything 
around her, “ she was sick, and unconscious, and 
delirious, and I don’t know what all, till finally 
she come to herself one day, too weak to speak or 
move, and she heard folks talking about her. She 
told me this part, herself, after I’d known her 
some time, and I thought it would kill her just to 
tell it. 

“ It was their maid talking to the nurse and 
she was taking on about Sylvia’s cousin, and say- 
ing that she was so beautiful, and that everybody 
loved her. And that no one liked Sylvia because 
she was homely and had a bad disposition, and 
352 


Who is Sylvia? 

that no one would ever care for her except on ac- 
count of her money. It seems she’d found out 
long before that about the money, but she never 
told because she ? y 'ked the other girl better. And 
there that poor child had to lie and hear all that.” 

“ Oh, the poor, poor thing,” said Carol, with the 
quick tears springing into her eyes. 

“ After that there was a guardeen appointed for 
her,” Miss Brown went on, “ and they took her to 
the sanitarium. She was afraid of everybody, and 
’twas perfectly pitiful to see how she hated the 
idea of having the money. And somehow she 
kinder trusted me, and after a while we made it up 
between us that I should go somewhere near the 
ocean with her, and should pertend it was my 
money, and she’d be just plain Mary Brown until 
folks could forget all about Sylvia Browning.” 

“ That was why she was frightened by the bon- 
fire,” said Jane, as Miss Brown was silent for a 
moment. “ And now I understand why she had 
the shades down when I first went there, and why 
she was afraid to meet other people. Oh, poor 
Mary — I mean Sylvia. I’m afraid I never can get 
used to calling her that, and it’s one of my fa- 
vorite names.” 

“ She began to get happier from that first day 
you came to see her,” Miss Brown said joyously. 
“ And then the others were nice to her, but she 
353 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

wasn’t wholly satisfied until the other day when 
Carol ” 

“ Oh, pie-ease don’t say any more,” begged Carol, 
burying her face on Mrs. Stuart’s shoulder, and 
murmuring in muffled tones something about 
“ selfish beast.” 

“ I’m going over to get her. May I, Cousin Eliza- 
beth ? ” asked Don, starting for the door with his 
boyish face full of feeling. “ The poor little thing — 
over there alone — waiting for us to hear about this.” 

“ Let’s all go,” began Jane, and then with a 
quick change of mind, “ let’s not. Hurry, Don, 
please. I’m wild to see her.” For some reason, 
she was sure that Donald, with his knowledge of 
loneliness and sorrow, was the one of them all to 
put Sylvia at her ease. It troubled her a little be- 
cause Rob slipped out of the room, too, apparently 
in pursuit of Donald. 

“ She had on a white dress, mother,” Jane went 
on, “ and she looked so pretty in it.” 

“ It’s my birthday,” Miss Brown explained shyly, 
“ and we was celebrating a little. She gave me 
this dress last summer, because she’d heard me say 
I’d always wanted a purple satin, but I never could 
persuade her to wear anything pretty herself. 
Those clothes you had on,” she added, turning to 
Carol, “ was bought for her when she was sick, 
but she’d never had ’em on.” 

354 


Who is Sylvia? 

Mrs. Stuart started to speak, but the quick open- 
ing of the front door made her pause. 

“ I found her starting all by herself/’ said Don, 
ushering Sylvia Browning into the room with an 
air of triumph. 

“ I — somehow — felt sure you would let me 
come / 7 said Sylvia herself, with a little wistful 
smile, “ even if I have been pretending to be some 
one else ever since you’ve known me.” 

Jane was across the room in a second with her 
arm around the newcomer, and Carol was just be- 
hind her. 

“ I love your name,” chattered Jane, trying to 
bridge over a trying moment, and punctuating her 
remarks with a squeeze or two. “ It seems so much 
more like you than ‘ Mary Brown ’ ever did. Not 
that Brown isn’t a nice name, of course,” she went 
on, feeling that she was getting into deep waters. 

“ It’s a very nice name to me — one of the nicest 
in the world.” Sylvia turned an affectionate glance 
toward the pink-cheeked old lady. “ I know 
Brownie hasn’t told you that she has been a per- 
fect darling to me, and that I was nervous and 
cross and — and generally disagreeable for a long, 
long time. I just made life miserable for her.” 

“ I must go home,” declared Miss Brown, rising 
suddenly, and trying to conceal the fact that her 
eyes were full of sudden tears. ‘'Don’t you hurry, 
355 


Jane Stuart’s Churn 

Sylvia. Some of the young folks can bring you 
home. I’m so afraid Fanny has let the kitten run 
out that I think I’d better go.” 

David started up to go with her, but Mr. Chope, 
head and shoulders into the room by this time, in- 
terposed with his customary gallantry. 

“Don’t you trouble ’bout leavin’ the house, 
Davy. I was jest thinkin’ of takin’ a stroll in that 
direction myself, an’ if Miss Brown will let me I’ll 
see she gits home.” And then, at Miss Brown’s 
blushing assent, he added in a voice which reached 
only David’s ears, “ You see there was one or two 
pints along the first of that story I missed.” 

“ Say, Jane,” said Donald suddenly, when they 
had all settled down again, his cousin on the sofa 
between the two other girls, “ didn’t I tell you 
I’d show you a picture of your chum ? Well, it 
came to-night, and here it is.” He passed a square 
envelope to her as he ended, and she opened it, 
feeling a little nervous over the mention of this 
much discussed question. 

“ It’s Ma — Sylvia,” cried Carol, peeking over 
Jane’s shoulder. 

“ No, it’s Carol,” asserted Sylvia. “ My hair 
isn’t wavy.” 

“ Oh, oh, it’s both of you,” Jane said, looking 
up at her cousin with shining eyes. “ It’s what 
we were talking about, isn’t it, Don ? Only you 
35b 


Who is Sylvia? 

never let me know you meant anything like this. 
It's a composite photograph of you both, and — and 
you look so much alike it might do for either.” 

The face looking out of the picture was merrier 
than Sylvia’s and more sober than Carol’s. The 
cloudy dark hair might have done for either, but 
Carol could not claim the earnestness of the eyes, 
and Sylvia’s lips were less ready to smile. 

“ Oh, my lovely chum ! ” Jane said in a tone of 
heartfelt satisfaction. “ Don, you’re a genius. 
Here she is, mumsey,” she was giving the picture 
to David to be passed to her mother, “ and here 
she are.” She threw an arm around each of the 
girls and hugged them tightly. 

“ I’d like a group of that,” said Donald, regard- 
ing the golden head between the two dark ones 
with a critical gaze. 

“ Take one, and send us to Aunt Caroline,” cried 
Jane with sudden inspiration. “ Tell her it — it 
are my chum, and that I can’t possibly go camp- 
ing this summer without — without both of it.” 

“ Oh, she’ll let you have the whole thing. I 
know grandmother,” answered Donald, with a 
proud and easy confidence that delighted Mrs. 
Stuart. “ It wouldn’t do to have only half a chum 
with you.” 

Every one laughed, and in the midst of the fun 
Rob dashed into the room, and with a word to 
357 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

Mrs. Stuart opened' both windows wide. As if it 
had been a signal to some one, there floated in 
from outside the sound of a mellow voice singing 
the lovely old song : 

u Who is Sylvia ? What is she ? 

That all our swaius commend her ? ” 

The words came out with great distinctness, 
though tinged with the slight foreign accent, 
which to those who knew the singer made it all 
the more dear and delightful. 

“ It’s Mr. Prescott,” cried Jane, flying to the 
window. “ And the Ninepin girls — and the Snow- 
shoe boys — and Hilda. Did you ever hear aii}^- 
thing fit in so beautifully as that song? ” she ended 
with an ecstatic sigh. 

There was a little silence after the last note of 
the song died away, and then the girls and boys 
sang a serenade Mr. Prescott had taught them. 

“ It was pretty smart of you, Rob, to get them 
together in such a short time,” Carol said. 

“ I was waiting for some one to notice that,” re- 
marked Rob calmly. “ I really have them under 
perfect control. I told them Sylvia Browning had 
arrived, and they were to come and serenade her 
without asking any questions. No one knows 
yet who she is except the Prescotts.” 

“ Have them all come in,” said Mrs. Stuart, to 
358 


Who is Sylvia? 

the great joy of every one. “ And, Rob, please go 
home and see if you can borrow some lemons. 
Ask Hilda and Molly to come into the kitchen 
and help me. Jane, you must do the honors here.” 

It was quite like a real reception, as Jane said 
afterward, with Sylvia, in her pretty white dress, 
having to be introduced to every one, and looking 
as if she loved it all and couldn't get enough of it. 
And mother, like the general she was, conjured 
up refreshments enough to go around, though she 
confessed she couldn’t have done it if it hadn’t 
been for the neighbors. 

“ Nothing in it for enchanted princesses now, is 
there ? ” Rob said softly to Jane, when every one 
was going, and he came to say good-night. “ The 
real thing is good enough for me.” 

“ I should say it was,” answered Jane, with a 
last wave of the hand at Sylvia and Carol, who 
were going out of the door together. 

“ I’m too happy for words,” Jane remarked, 
when the last one had departed, and mother and 
the rest lingered in the hall for a moment before 
going up-stairs. “ Now that I don’t have to de- 
cide between Carol and Sylvia I haven’t a trouble 
in the world.” 

David, looking at her with mischief in his gaze, 
was moved to sudden mirth. “ You’re too self- 
satisfied,” he said maliciously. “ I’m going to 
359 


Jane Stuart’s Chum 

spoil it.” And then he began deliberately, “ May- 
baskets ! Tell me, Lovers ” 

“ Wretch ! ” groaned Jane. “ I might have 
known some one would do that.” Then, with a 
quick return to her former mood, she cried de- 
lightedly, “ Why, Spinksy, I’m glad you re- 
minded me. I love that little poem now, and I 
must apologize to Judy in the morning. If it 
hadn’t been for her, I shouldn’t have thought of 
that way to give Miss Brown the flowers. And 
Miss Brown wouldn’t have got desperate, and I 
might have had to wait for days ” — Jane’s em- 
phasis made it sound like years — “ to know about 
Sylvia. So please, kind brother, sing it all you 
like, only, Spinksy ” — Jane paused for an instant 
and gazed at him imploringly — “ if you want 
your family to love you, get a few more notes in 
your — in your vocabulary.” 

David chuckled. “ You’ve got the last word as 
usual, Mrs. Janes,” he said with sleepy good-na- 
ture. “ Come on, Don. I’m going to bed.” 

“ Where’s the picture of my beloved chum ? ” 
Jane demanded, going into the library to hunt for 
it while mother waited at the foot of the stairs. 
“ Isn’t she a dear ? ” she said, coming back with 
the photograph in her hand. “ I want to put her 
on my table and look at her the first thing in the 
morning.” 


360 


Who is Sylvia ? 

Both heads bent over the pretty girlish face for 
a moment, then Jane said with conviction in her 
voice, “ Mumsey, perhaps it’s horrid of me, but 
I’m quite sure I never can settle down and like 
one girl better than all the others. Isn’t it the 
grandest thing ever that I can have a composite 
chum ? ” 


Another Story in this Series is 
JANE STUART, TWIN 


361 





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